Ma ude I le 



A Novel Founded on Facts 

Gathered 

From Living Witnesses 

BY 

J, H. Smith 

I906 

MAYHEW PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

BOSTON, MASS. 



• N 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

MAR 141906 

CLASS <}L XXc No. 



Copyrighted, 1906. 

By J. H. Smith. 
All rights reserved. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Midnight Advent of a Soul. i 

II. Genial Companions . . . 16 

III. A Father's Last Advice . . 26 

IV. A Dying Man Performs His Own Mar- 

riage Ceremony. . . . . 41 

V. A Premonition of Danger. . . 55 

VI. A Favorable Night for a Dark Deed. 60 

VII. The Ghost of Sin. ... 76 

VIII. The Heart Broke. . . . 78 

IX. The Lost Found After Seven Years. 81 

X. The Purchase, Dead or Alive. . . 107 
XL Who is Lawrence? . . . .113 

XII. They Have Sold My Dead Papa. . 122 

XIII. A Search for the Agreement of Con- 

spiracy. . . . . .128 

XIV. The Trial. . . . . 133 
XV. Beginning a New Life. . . 153 

XVII. A Battle With Books. . . . 171 

XVIII. Entering Radcliffe. . . .180 
XIX. No Hope. ..... 188 

XX. Soliloquy of a Lover — Changed to a 

Demon 218 

XXL The Crow's Roost. . . . . 221 

XXII. Maudelle Kidnapped. . . . 231 



TABLE OF CONTENTS, — continued 



CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIII. Back from a Den of Lost Souls 25c 

XXIV. "The Most Unkind Cut of All." 257 
XXV. Two Captives and a Death. . 269 

XXVI. A Duel and a Funeral. . . 283 

XXVII. The Dream Realized. . . 299 

XXVIII. The Reason Why. ... 314 

XXIX. The Negro in Politics. . . 330 

XXX. The Skull and Cross-Bones. . 343 

XXXI. God and Myself, . . . 374 
XXXII. "The Speech that Made History'' 

and The Answer that Cost a Life. 389 

XXXIII. It is Blood that Wins. . . 440 



PREFACE 



Long before I conceived the idea of writing a book, I 
was sure to lose confidence in every author I read who made 
any apology for what he had to say, 

I thought then as I do now, that if one's thoughts have 
to be propped up with excuses and apologies, better they 
die still-born. 

It is my opinion that truth, though roughly told, needs 
no apology, and falsehood, ever so skilfully portrayed, de- 
serves none. 

Fiction, not overdrawn, may be past, present or future 
truth, that ought to come to us without the blush of an 
apology, in right of the moral it means to teach. 

What I have here to say, is absolutely true, except such 
missing links as had to be supplied for the sake of harmony, 

Let no one imagine the author domiciled in a brown 
stone front mansion in a fashionable neighborhood of some 
large city in the North, East or West, and weaving an imag- 
inative story; but on the other hand, let him fix in his mind 
one who has had thirty years' actual experience in the South. 

One who has mingled with the refined people of the stately 
mansion and also those of the log cabin in the back woods. 

One who has fought with the alligator in the lakes, the 
bayous and the cypress brakes, and chased the bear, the 
wolf and deer through the swamps. 

One who has carefully studied the social status of the 
two races (Black and White,) their unpleasant differences, 
and the reason why. 

In writing this treatise, I have been careful to discard 
all elements which appear in any way likely to be offensive 
to the most sensitive reader. 



Since the hope of fame has by bo means been the incentive 
which prompted this writing, I have aimed at nothing but 
plain truth in simple dress. 

I write because I have something to say which I have 
never heard said, nor have I seen it in print. 

The basis of this story is true, except names and places 
are only withheld to avoid embarrassing relatives. 

This case of illicit commingling is one among thousands 
which were open and defiant, when Cotton was King, and 
Slavery Queen of the South. 

Senator George Morroe and his colored wife were all we 
have described them to be — names excepted. Morroe was 
a relative of one of the Presidents of the United States, and 
certainly did marry himself to his colored slave woman, and 
willed or gave his vast estate to her and his child by her. 

Strenuous efforts were made to dispossess the child of 
her property, and it was only after years of litigation that 
the property was awarded to her by the courts. 



CHAPTER I. 



THE MIDNIGHT ADVENT OF A SOUL. 

On a chilly, moonless, stormy night in December, the old 
gray-haired, faithful house servant of Senator Morroe, was 
seen to mount the back of " Thunderbolt" the five-thousand- 
dollar stallion, and wait at the door of the private office for 
orders. 

A note thrust into the hand of the old servant, a few hur- 
ried words of the master, and a wave of the hand to go for- 
ward was all. 

Uncle Peter leaned forward in the saddle and gave rein 
to the restless, champing steed. With a tremendous leap — 
the iron bound hoofs scooped up, and hurled back earth 
and gravel full thirty feet in rear; while horse and rider dis- 
appeared in the pelting storm like an enraged phantom. 

Senator Morroe slammed the door against the intruding 
cold blast, and, with hands in pockets, took his stand at the 
window in a kind of semi-conscious mood, watching the fine 
hail-stones' miniature cannonade on the panes. 

The howling and crying of the ice-charged wind that 
played its doleful midwinter notes on the sharp angles of 
the buildings, Ijad seemingly sent to shelter all animate 
nature for the night. The guinea fowls, the chickens, and 
turkeys with feathers fluffed, and heads beneath their wings, 
clutched the bare branches of the lawn trees, while being 
violently tossed about, which gave the appearance of foot- 
balls playing a game with each other in the swaying tree 
tops. 

Ringo, Lion and the two pups, were ensconced in their 
bed of straw in the kennel. 

i 



MAUDELLE. 

Old short-eared, yellow Tom, and gray Tabby had sworn 
off wool pulling for the night, and each sat on the kitchen 
hearth with backs to the fire, watching "Mag" and 
"Sue" push the hot smoothing iron over the household 
linen. 

The ducks had taken shelter in the brake below the 
springhouse among the hackberry and cypress kness. 

The geese were huddled close together in the horse lot 
only peeping out now and then from under their wings, 
to indicate by nodding their heads and chattering in goose 
language, that so far, all was well. 

The hogs were piled up under the old wagon shed, all 
snapping and quarrelling, and vying with one another for 
the warm place in the middle. The cattle, with backs 
humped, stood close together on the lee-side of the barn, 
and occasionally shook their heads impatiently and locked 
threatening horns, as though blaming one another for the 
severity of the storm. 

The sheep warmed by their impenetrable suit of wool, 
lay close under the bank of the ravine back of the orchard, 
comfortably chewing their cud. 

A terrific gust of wind caught and dashed the icicle 
branches of the weeping willow against the window at which 
Senator Morroe stood. Startled by the unexpected crash, 
he stepped back and exclaimed: "My, my! I declare this is 
a frightful night. Too bad, too bad, for that old man to be 
out — I wonder if he was well wrapped? One good thing, 
he need not be out long : he is an excellent rider and I know 
Thunderbolt will make the five miles in twenty minutes 
if he's given the rein. But, I expect the old gump will try 
to spare the horse and expose himself too long to this ter- 
rible weather, and perhaps contract a cold in the bargain, 
which may end his life. A faithful negro, like a faithful dog, 
never thinks of self-preservation when trying to please his 
master. But, why did I not think for him? why did I not 



2 



MAUDELLE. 



give him my rubber coat and see that he was protected 
against the storm ?" 

While Senator Morroe was thus soliloquizing, Thunder- 
bolt was completing the five miles which lay between the 
Morroe mansion and the town of H. Stung by rain and 
hail, and fired by the spirit of his rich, Kentucky blood, he 
refused to be controlled by the old man, who could do noth- 
ing but stay in the saddle and be carried over the road a 
mile every three and a half minutes. 

Uncle Peter reined up at the Brandy mansion, leaped 
from the saddle, and shook the hail-stones from his hat and 
shoulders and began patting the horse on the neck and talk- 
ing to him. "Now, Thunderbolt, " said he, "You see 
you's gwine to cotch bad cold, you's so hot. O, you rascal, 
you is sich a big fool to go so fast. I done tole you so many 
times 'bout dat hard-headed big fool way you's got. But, 
you jist won't mind nobody dout you please." 

The old man drew off his great coat and carefully placed 
it on the back of the horse, saying as he did so, "Now, 
Thunderbolt, don' t you leave me, for I'se gwine to be back 
in a few minutes." The almost human intelligence evi- 
denced by the horse, was very remarkable. Uncle Peter 
had taught him to stand anywhere, and under any circum- 
stances, without hitching, and no one dare touch him unless 
the old man was near and gave his approval in hearing of 
the horse. 

In an incredibly short time, could be heard above the 
roar of the tempest and the clatter of the rain and hail, the 
neighing of Thunderbolt as he passed the neighboring 
farmhouses on his return home. Just behind horse and 
rider, could be seen lights flickering and dancing in the lamps 
and the spinning and jumping of rapidly-approaching buggy 
wheels could be heard upon the gravel pike. 

The ponderous lawn gate automatically swung back on 
its hinges, while Uncle Peter and Doctor Brantly swept 



3 



MAUDELLE. 



through and reined up under the archway at the side door 
of the Morroe mansion. 

As Doctor Brantly leaped from his buggy, and seized his 
surgeon's case, he was warmly received by Senator Morroe, 
conducted into the house, and resigned to the motherly care 
of Aunt Millie, while the Senator returned to give Jake 
orders concerning the care of the Doctor's horse. 

" Uncle Peter, are you wet?" inquired Senator Morroe. 

"Mighty little sah", said the old servant. 

"Mighty little", repeated his master, "I cannot see 
how you could be otherwise than wet. Let Sam attend to 
Thunderbolt and you go into the kitchen to the fire." 

"No, Marse, I tend Thunderbolt myself, please sah," 
said Peter. 

"O, of course," said his master with a show of impa- 
tience, "you would rather die than let anyone touch that 
horse. Go on, go you old dunce, }'ou have no sense anyway, 
and I don't care if you freeze to death, you old blockhead 
goose." 

The old servant took the horse to the stall, and devoted a 
half hour to his care, then came to the house shivering with 
cold. Once in the kitchen, where a big log fire in a six-foot 
fireplace blazed and sparkled, the old man drew off his 
shoes and poured the water from them in the chimney cor- 
ner, then stood before the fire turning about and drying his 
wet clothes, from which a dense vapor issued like steam from 
a pot of boiling soap-suds. 

Mag drew live coals out upon the hearth, and set the half- 
gallon coffee pot upon them, which soon began to sing, then 
to boil. Uncle Peter filled his big bowl with hot coffee and 
sat leaning toward the fire, sipping and chatting with the 
girls. Sam came in with a big, back log, pulled the fire 
forward and threw it on, making the hot embers and sparks 
fly. 

"Look out, dar, Sam, for dem taters," said Sue. 



4 



MAUDELLE. 



"I guess da's dun anyhow by now/' sai 1 Sam, as he took 
the poker and carefull drew from the fire and hot embers, a 
half dozen or more large sweet potatoes, and pressed each one 
with his ringers saying, "Chillen, da's alright." Sue dusted 
the ashes from them, while Mag brought out the bowls 
and a large pan of sweet milk, then the three men and two 
girls joined in the jolly feast of sweet potatoes and fresh milk. 

The Astors, Vanderbilts, and Rothschilds, with all their 
millions were never happier than those well-fed and well- 
cared-for servants of Senator George Morroe. He never 
refused them a ything reasonable, and they in turn, were 
always delighted to please him, even at the risk of life and 
limb. 

Back now to the inmates of the great house, which have 
for us a more important story. Aunt Millie, in her usual 
tender and motherly w T ay, looked after Dr. Brantly's 
comfort, and the two had gone upstairs, followed later by 
Senator Morroe. Doctor Brantly could be seen in the 
bedroom, with coat off and sleeves pushed up, cautiously 
moving about the chamber and bending over the bed every 
few minutes. Aunt Millie was the only one of the servants 
allowed in the room. She passed orders from Senator 
Morroe and Doctor Brantly to Lize, the waiting maid, 
who sat in the hall near the door, unless tripping up and 
down stairs for such things as were called for. 

As Aunt Millie quickly passed in and out of the bed-room 
door, there could be heard the low moan of a woman ap- 
parently in great distress. The bed had been drawn to the 
center of the room for convenience. Senator Morroe sat 
on one side of the bed holding the hand of the sufferer, 
who tossed from side to side, pitifully begging for help. 
The Doctor leaned over the opposite side of the bed, ten- 
derly encouraging her to bear the pangs but a few minutes 
more. The Doctor summoned Aunt Millie to his side and 
gave his orders for her part of the work. 



5 



MAUDELLE 



From the earnest expression on the Doctor's face, and 
the firmness with which each attendant stood at his post, 
it was evident that the case had about reached its climax, 
when courage and skill were required to guide the patient in 
her unsteady approach to the verge of dissolution, where 
she was to poise for a moment on the danger line, the piv- 
otal point between time and eternity, and no eye, however 
well trained, could give any positive assurance as to which 
direction the case would take. "O Lord, Lord: I cannot 
endure this longer," said the patient, with a half -sobbing 
death-like scream, with head thrown back, hands nervously 
clutching the air; with one deep inspiration the bosom rose 
up, up, as though it would burst. The blood-vessels of the 
neck tilled and stood out in fretted whelks. Then there 
followed knotty, rigid contortions of the muscles of the face 
and other parts of the body, until every fibre was strained to 
its utmost tension. 

At last, there came one deep sepulchral groan, which 
faintly died away to a sigh. The bosom fell and there 
was a limpid relaxation of the entire muscular system. 
The hands fell heavily upon the bed and she lay as 
dead. 

A clattering of wheels, of cogs and of cords, and the old 
six-foot wooden clock struck twelve steady, measured 
strokes. It was midnight. 

Senator Morroe bent over and looked into the pale face 
of the woman, his hps parted, brows contracted and he ex- 
claimed in terror, "Oh, my God! Doctor, she is dead!" 
The Doctor either did not hear or was too absorbed in his 
work to answer, for he paid no attention to Morroe, but, 
motioning to Aunt Millie handed something to her with 
which she disappeared in an adjoining room. The doctor 
gave his attention to the sick patient, whose exhausted sys- 
tem readily responded to restoratives. In an hour Aunt 
Millie returned with a beautiful little girl, of which the 



6 



MAUDELLE. 



doctor and Senator Morroe were proud. By this time the 
reader has discovered that two opposite natures had been 
in touch, and a human soul was the result. 

This girl child was the first fruit of affection; not the af- 
fection of husband and wife, not the affection of two lovers 
guilty of violating the sacred trust of parental confidence, 
and the sanctity of pure society, but it was the affection of 
master and slave. That strange combination of the two 
races (Black and White), which has discolored more than 
one-fifth of the negro population of America. 

Here was Mary, a beautiful light mulatto, the slave and 
mother; Senator George Morroe, a rich, cultured Kertucky 
gentleman, the father and master. 

But this clandestine commingling of the races was in no 
way damaging to the standing of a gentleman, or to the 
ethics of Southern society of ante bellum days. So long, 
however, as the rule worked but one way, a white father and 
a colored mother. But to reverse this prevailing custom, 
with white mother and colored father, the penalty was a 
funeral of the father between two suns. If the mother did 
not meet the same fate, she at once sank to the level of the 
most degraded of whites and negroes, never again to rise 
to the notice of the better class of the whites. But the con- 
demnation should come only from those who are worthy to 
"Cast the first stone." 

If it was a crime of so much gravity for the white woman, 
it was a crime of greater enormity for the white man, who 
was not only morally the stronger, but who abused his 
authority as master and owner, to force a slave into sub- 
mission and then cruelly rob her of all that makes woman 
sweet and lovely. 

If society and public sentiment would brand one with the 
indelible stamp of condemnation, then brand both by the 
sam^ mark, and this will be justice, but anything else will 
be inconsistent prejudice. 



7 



MAUDELLE. 



Doctor Brantly took the child from Aunt Millie; "Go to 
your mammie and get your supper, you pig, you," said he 
in a playful manner. 

At the solicitation of Aunt Millie, in her usual tender, 
motherly way, the two gentlemen partook of wine and sat 
d wn to spend the remainder of the night in a social chat, 

"Now, Doctor Brantly, help me to invent a name for the 
baby," said Senator Morroe. 

"Well, let us see," said the doctor. "How is Maud? 
or Maudelle?" said he. 

"That is it," said Senator Morroe, " Maudelle is the name, 
and a pretty suggestive one, too." 

Mary was so totally absorbed in caressing, cooing, and 
gossiping with the child, that she was not cognizant of the 
fact that her baby had been named, until Doctor Brantly 
told her, and she in turn told the child with as much 
earnestness, as though it was susceptible of comprehension. 

Doctor Brantly w r as silent for a few minutes, looking at 
mother and babe in a kind of a half -unconscious mood, with 
brows slightly contracted and head bent forward and to one 
side, which showed that his mind w T as evidently at work on 
some philosophical problem. He was a man of extensive 
knowledge gained by research, and varied experience. He 
was carrying the age of fifty-five years upon his brow. His 
hair w T as two-thirds white, though rich and heavy. Doctor 
Brantly, like all sensible men of his age, allowed no thought 
to occupy a place in his mind, unless it could be made val- 
uable; a fixed, and tangible reality, susceptible of evolving 
some beneficent truth, for himself and others. 

He used to say, that when a man crossed the meridian of 
life, he should, if possible, make no mistake between there 
and the grave, for fear that should he return to correct them, 
death might meet him on the way back. 

After a few minutes' meditation, and as the thought seemed 
to have slowly matured in his mind, his brow relaxed, the 



MAUDELLE. 



furrows in his forehead smoothed out, and his eyes lit up 
and bespoke the birth of a new theory. As he threw 
his head up and leaned back in his chair, he said, 
"Senator, have you ever thought that the time of one's birth 
is a more proper time for tears than the time of one's 
death?" 

"No, doctor, I have never looked at it in that way," 
said Senator Morroe. 

"Well, if we have as much faith in the providence of a 
God as we pretend to have, and if we mean but one-tenth 
part of our daily prayers, I believe I am right, that the time 
of one's birth and not the time of one's death, is the time to 
weep," said he. 

"Why so?" said the Senator. 

"Because, if death comes upon one before the years of 
responsibility set in upon the soul, it seems to me that death 
is but a timely call to shelter, by the voice of a kind Father 
Who foresaw some inevitable danger, against which the 
soul was not well fortified, owing perhaps to some violated 
law of nature. 

"O, I have tears for the child born without life; because 
I know of no promise of eternal life to one so unfortunately 
Lorn. But, blessed is the tender being w T hom God allows 
to step upon the stage, if but for a minute, or only long 
enough to hurriedly push aside the curtain and look in upon 
the world and register its existence on time. Thi^ hasty 
panoramic view of the human soul gives claim to redemption 
in the blood of Christ. 

"'I think tears at such a moment would seem to say that 
we were sorry and sadly disappointed, that the voyager was 
not made to stay here and suffer all the aggravated pangs, 
ailments and ills of life, and then, perhaps cross the dead 
line later in life, and at an unguarded moment, die beyond 
the reach of God's mercy." 

" I do not understand it in that way," said Senator Morroe. 



9 



MAUDELLE. 



"I believe that tears at death are a modest and befitting 
expression of our affection for the departed one. To cry 
is a pretest against being robbed of those we love. I do not 
mean to say, that not to cry at death, shows us wanting in 
affection; but, I am not ready to agree that the human heart 
can ever teach itself to weep at the gift of a child, and smile 
at its loss. I know, however, that this is true of some tribes 
and peoples who are uncivilized, ?nd who make the funeral 
occasion one of great hilarity. 

" But, my friend, to a civilized Christian people, whose sen- 
sibilities are made tender and quickened by the influence of 
divine truth, it would be a very difficult to reverse the sen- 
timent cf the death-bed and the grave, and for the sacred 
tears, give us the gay merriment of birth." 

"That is very good," said Doctor Brantly. "But, be- 
cause our finer feelings would rebel against the reversion 
of the death-bed sentiment, does it obtain that the custom 
of the present day is correct ? 

"I know my philosophy is rather cold and cheerless, yet, 
1 believe the thought has in it some valuable hints, if we can 
bend our wills to accept them. 

"We have here a babe, net yet two hours old. It has 
t aken no conscious part in its own conception and existence; 
but, two persons have, and these two persons are not only 
responsible for what it is now, but are also responsible in a 
great measure, for its possibilities in the two worlds of which 
it is a part. Now, it is a mere cipher in nature, then comes 
a draft on the breast of its mother for a supply of the neces- 
saries of life on credit, and the wonderful problem of life 
has begun. It is an automatic problem which must solve 
itself, aided somewhat by the influence, environments and 
the caste of circumstances. 

".Who can guess, who but God can foresee what the end 
will be? Whether a life so innocently begun, will likewise 
innocently end. The dear babe has come with clean hands, 

10 



MAUDELLE. 



a pure heart. It comes to us with all the sweet and lovable 
attributes of an angel. 

"But who can knowingly promise that those amiable, 
angelic characteristics will not change to hateful and repul- 
sive satanic principles after a few years in close touch with 
sin? 

"May not that docile, tender, flexible little heart, through 
which an impure thought has never passed, and which now 
pulsates in perfect unison with God and nature, in a few 
years become as cold and unyielding as hard and flinty as 
that of a demon of darkness. 

"May not those tiny feet which have never made tracks 
in an unforbidden path, in later years, defy the admonition 
of mankind and warning of God, and hasten on in the 
"Broad road" which leads to death and damnation? 

"May not those delicate little hands which have never 
displaced a hair or an atom, in the spirit of anger, further 
on in life become stained and dripping with human gore, 
and then the guilty soul swing into eternity by the neck for 
its crime? I say, my friend, these things are possible. 
They may never come to yours or mine; yet, they do come 
to mankind of which we are a part, and in whom we have 
a common interest, and whose lives began as harmless as 
did ours. If we have tears at all for the soul at any period 
of its existence, it does seem to me the time most reasonable 
to contribute them, is when it enters the field of imminent 
danger, if we truly feel solicitous for its safety: not when the 
battle of life is fought and the danger passed. 

"Why weep when the soul which has stood picket duty 
on the outpost of God's army for a half century or more, 
is called in, after its blade is bent and battered, beating off 
the assaults on life ? 

"Does not such faithful services deserve a furlough, or 
rather a promotion from the ranks in the field to the rank of 
an immortal generalissimo, to be retired on full pay? 



MAUDELLE. 



"I know the solemnity of the death-bed and the grave 
have been fruitful of much good. Perhaps there have been 
occasions for the first moments of serious meditation for 
thousands who have never until then, stopped to think of 
death and its consequences. 

"Perhaps the hopeful testimony of some departing soul, 
has created in the heart of the spectator, a faithfully kept 
resolution, to — "Die the death of the righteous." 

"No doubt the death-bed and the black shadow of the 
coffin, falling across the door-sill of an ungodly family, have 
forced up penitent tears, which result, nothing else could 
have accomplished. 

"But, after all, my friend, I believe these things have 
more of a tendency to frighten one into supposed righteous- 
ness than to persuade or reason them into true godliness. 

"I apprehend that the effect produced by fear, has but 
little, or perhaps no real permanency. It seems to me, that 
it is time the world had about reached that standard of in- 
telligence, when reason, rather than passion or fear, should 
be our moral guide." 

"I fear, doctor, that discipleship to your new theory will 
be of slow growth; at least, until the human heart can give 
up its present Utopia, and school itself to those nice dis- 
tinctions between love, duty and reason," said the Senator. 

"Five or ten minutes' reflection," said Doctor Brantly, 
"will interpret my meaning as fully as the study of a decade. 
It does not take a scientist nor a philosopher to foresee the 
dangers which hang octopus-like, about the pathway of the 
young and inexperienced. There would be less apprehen- 
sion for the safety and well-being of the young, were they 
more disposed to put correct valuation on the advice of 
those who have grown older in experience. But they, like 
us, are daring adventurers, and nothing delights so much 
as to make tracks where tracks were never made before by 
man." 



MAUDELLE. 



"I believe," said Senator Morroe, "It was Shelly who said, 
k We are more like the times in w T hich we live, than we are 
like our fathers.' If this is true, perhaps the young do better 
not to be governed by our advice, which leads along old 
beaten paths that do not harmonize with the new condition 
of things." 

"Shelly is correct," said Doctor Brandy, "'and that is the 
trend of my argument; that tears, groans, and long faces 
belong to an age behind us. These things are out of joint 
with the age of our boasted intelligence. 

"I do not pretend to say with any assurance of truthful- 
ness, that I am physically and mentally strong enough to put 
in practice the theory which I advance; yet, my weakness 
makes no change in my conviction. 

"I do not believe we can, or should expect to establish 
an immovable standard of rules, not to be improved upon 
by succeeding generations. However, the one under dis- 
cussion, seems to have gone untouched up to date, especially 
in this country." 

"What have you to say, doctor, with regard to wearing 
black and other tokens of sorrow for the dead?" said Sen- 
ator Morroe ? 

"They too, must go at a time not remote," said Doctor 
Brantly. "I like the monument, the statue, the broken 
shaft and other durable emblems of exemplary excellence 
of manhood and great achievements; because, they are great 
incentives to the young of all ages, and give a pleasing as- 
surance to the old, that they will not be forgotten if they 
have lived a life worth imitating. But a new thought comes 
in here. Do you know, Senator, that it is no easy thing for 
a man to make his life worthy of imitation? But it is said 
there are only two persons in a hundred, who really do 
this, and the other ninety-eight are mediocral. That is a 
ratio easy of demonstration. Take your pencil and write a 
hundred names of all classes of people, as they occur to you. 



15 



MAUDELLE. 



When you have a hundred, check as many as you would 
like your child to imitate, without a variation. If you can 
find two in every hundred so arranged and checked, you will 
make headway much better than I have been able to do. 

"Whom have you in mind, Senator, that you would like 
our Maudelle to exactly shape her life after?" 

Senator Morroe dropped his head and busied his mind a 
minute, then with a smile, "I give it up," said he. 

"I could have done no better should you have asked me," 
said Doctor Brantly. "I know that books and other in- 
fluences have much to do with forming one's character; but, 
by far, the larger part of one will be self, and with that innate 
touch of personal individuality, which contact and outside 
influence can in no way restrain, or at least no longer that 
one's will assumes control of self. 

"Our Maudelle will serve to illustrate, because she, like 
others, has come to create new ideas and new thoughts, to 
advance new propositions, to change old theories into new 
doctrines and work out new revelations, to move old land- 
marks and establish new ones. She, like others of her 
predecessors, has come to question the authenticity of old 
conventional creeds, theologies and dogmas, and raise the 
standard of a new faith. She, like others, comes to join 
in the race for gain, to battle for bread and territory, to 
influence saints for heaven, or sinners for hell. We all have 
disciples to follow us, if not all the way, at least a part of 
the way to the grave. 

"When a panoramic view of the beginning of a human 
life passes before the imagination of one of fifty-five years of 
close observation, it is not strange that a birth should im- 
press us with more solemnity than a death. 

"Is it strange that I can find more solace in the closing 
hours of a life, than in the beginning as we see it ? 

"If a life has been one of failure, of mistakes, of crime and 
infamy, then why wish to prolong such a life ? On the other 



14 



MAUDELLE. 



hand, it has been one of honor, of usefulness and moral 
purity, why not join in the grand S}Tiiphony of all nature, 
with our benediction upon a life so happy and fortunately 
closed ? 

"Why not rejoice when the calm evening of life has come 
with an unclouded horizon, and with the full round face of 
our last setting sun, encircling nature with a halo of glory? 

"Why weep, when the weary soul reclines at the close of a 
long day, breathing out its last life force, sweetened by odor- 
iferous flowers garlanded about the couch by angelic hngers ? 
O how sweet, as the feathered families of the grove touch 
choice chords and chant a chorus, while the soul simply 
sleeps away its last moments of the time." 

Thus the discussion pleasantly ended as the cocks in the 
lawn trees flapped their wings and announced the approach 
of day. The old wooden clock in the corner struck six, as 
Liz rang her first bell for the family to prepare for the usual 
early country breakfast. 

The two gentlemen took a friendly glass of wine, and 
in another half hour were enjoying a w r arm breakfast of 
fresh, wholesome dainties, common to the household of the 
Southern planter. The storm had spent its force sometime 
between midnight and day. The empty clouds were hurry- 
ing Eastward on a brisk wind, while the moon and the stars 
looked through the broken places and lit up the bedrenched 
dead grass and dripping branches of the trees. 

Breakfast over, — just as the sun rose and looked through 
the branches of the Magnolia and bespoke the promise of a 
fine day. Fine w r eather, nine times out of ten, follows a 
storm in the Southern climate in winter. It comes, and ap- 
pears to atone for whatever damage the people have sus- 
tained by the visitation of the inclement weather. 

Doctor Brantly gave Aunt Millie instructions how to care 
for mother and child, ordered his horse, bade a pleasant 
adieux, and set out for the beautiful little town of H. 



*5 



CHAPTER II. 



GENIAL COMPANIONS. 

The unconscious babe whom we saw come into the world 
in Chapter I., on that stormy night in December, has now 
lost much of her baby identity, and is rapidly rounding out 
into a beautiful and well-developed girl of seven years of 
age. 

She inherited her mother's keen, unerring perception, and 
nervous, sensitive nature, combined with force of character, 
modesty, grace and ease; also, that of her father's lofty 
mien, dignified bearing, high sense of honor and great mental 
power. Such a combination of qualities are seldom found 
in one person. 

Maudelle was the constant companion of her father at 
home and abroad. Never were there father and daughter 
whose affections were more closely entwined, than were the 
hearts of those two beings. They seemed to be equally de- 
pendent on each other for all those tender amenities to be 
found only in the mutual love of two confiding and contented 
souls. Any pleasure in which both could not share, was 
seemingly worthless to both. Any distress of mind or pain 
of body in one, touched the sense of sympathy in the other 
so intensely, that both appeared to suffer alike. Maudelle 
was intuitively bright of mind. She had the capacity of 
taking in and quickly comprehending an abstruse thought 
which would have puzzled one twice her age. 

She evidenced a great liking for books, a delight in study 
at a very young age. Her father's library was her school 
room, he the teacher, and she the only pupil. Her lessons 
were carefully prepared and thoroughly understood. The 



16 



MAUDELLE. 



recitations for her, had as much attraction as the games in 
the parlor, or sports on the play-ground. 

He and Maudelle spent their Winter evenings principally 
in the library and laboratory, surrounded by all the necessary 
appliances for study and innocent games. Every game 
played was in some way made to teach a moral, as well as 
a mental lesson. 

On the return of Spring, and as the sun had warmed the 
earth sufficiently to coax the violet and yellow jonquil from 
their Winter retreat, father and daughter were on the go with 
magnifying glasses and botanical dissecting instruments. 

The lawn, the open field, the forest and brooklets were ex- 
plored in search of information. Thus the young mind fed 
and grew upon the rich and varied products of Nature, 
under the careful tutorage of a learned, loving and cultured 
father. 

Never had a parent drawn a more extravagant picture 
of mental culture and moral finish for his child, than had 
Senator Morroe for Maudelle, notwithstanding many of his 
friends had endeavored to dissuade him from his intention. 

On several occasions he had been taken to task and se- 
verely handled by ladies of his circle, which often brought 
the color of resentment to his face, that was mistaken for 
blushes of repentance. The last attack of this kind was at 
an evening social. The following is an abstract: 

Several ladies cornered Senator Morroe with mischievous 
winks, and threatening gesticulations, saying, "Now, sir, 
we have that same old crow to pick with you, and unless you 
have a large sack to hold the feathers, you will be over- 
whelmed and forever lost." 

Senator Morroe was naturally courteous and tender to- 
ward ladies, and he had always tried to avoid sharp argu- 
ment in defence of his conduct, which his friends considered 
no sin, except the fact of his kind and fatherly treatment to 
his child by a colored woman. 



17 



MAUDELLE. 



One of the ladies who had more to say than the others, 
was the wife of a prominent man who had fathered and sold 
three children by a black woman. Up to date, Senator 
Morroe never defended himself in the spirit of retaliation; 
but had thought it much better to let women believe they 
had achieved a victory, than to incur their life-long displeas- 
ure, by exposing their weakness. 

On this occasion, he could no longer beat down the spirit 
of resentment; every fiber of his nature, cried "to arms, to 
arms", against the unrelenting enemies of the child of his 
bosom. He felt his manhood rise within him and measure 
the ground for an uncomprising war with a people who were 
stained with the same sin as he. Fight was depicted upon 
his brow. This the ladies saw, but, they either lacked dis- 
cretion to avert the storm, or were confident they could carry 
the day and crush him for all time. 

"I tell you, George/ 7 said Mrs. Burdoe, shaking her little 
misshapen, bony fingers in his face, "the way you indulge 
that little nigger Maudelle, is not going to be tolerated by us 
ladies any longer. 

" It is a burning shame that she is to have every attention 
and learning like a white child, and made to believe that she 
is better than other slave niggers. It will never do, sir; 
one educated nigger could plunge the state of Kentucky 
into insurrection and murder us all." 

"You are right, Mrs. Burdoe," said Mrs. Truman. "A 
nigger is a nigger, if they have but one drop of nigger blood 
in them. I don't see why George don't sell the little brat 
like any decent white man would have done long ago. Why 
goodness sake, George, don't you know that if you let a yel- 
low nigger get the start of you, you will have to kill him or 
he will believe that he is as good as white people ? 

"Look at Col. Henderson's Tom, who was a house ser- 
vant and treated nicely; but when Col. Henderson died 
and Tom fell into the hands of his son, Richard Henderson, 

18 



MAUDELLE. 



he refused to be whipped, by his young master, and if the 
other niggers had not overpowered him, no doubt, he would 
have killed his young master. After all, the yellow devil ran 
away and carried eight or ten other niggers with him. 

" Don't talk to me about a yellow nigger, they are ten 
times meaner than a black one." 

"That is certainly so, Mrs. Truman," said Mrs. Stans- 
berry. 

" Of course it is so," said Mrs. Truman, "I know a yellow 
nigger like a book. They are always watching a chance to 
take the advantage of you, and advising others how to do 
so. I hate them. Why I have noticed that Maudelle 
will sit up as straight and look you in the face and talk 
smart, and really expect you to treat her with as much 
consideration as if she were white." 

"O, of course," said Mrs. Burdoe with a scornful toss of 
her head while mimicking Maudelle. "It will not be long 
before she will want to associate with our daughters, and 
be addressed as Miss Maudelle." 

"Why not show her the same respect I do your daughters ?" 
said the Senator, which was the first chance he had gotten 
to speak, so rapid were their assaults upon him. 

"Why, goodness sake," squalled Mrs. Stansberry, "our 
daughters are white and she is a tarnal nigger slave, that is 
why she should not be respected like our daughters. Re- 
spect her, indeed, that is a pretty howdy do, respect a nigger 
as you would a white person, ah! not Mrs. Mary Stansberry, 
I assure you, sir." 

Senator Morroe's face grew red and his eyes flashed the 
inward passion of his soul. Forbearance had thrown off 
all restraint, and the spirit of bitter retaliation pushed hard 
for vent. The unbearable crisis had come. The ladies 
had dashed the gauntlet to the ground, and Senator Morroe 
took it up — 

"But, ladies, does the few drops of colored blood in her 



10 



MAUDELLE. 



veins make her any the less my daughter, and should not a 
true manly father have the same affection for his child by one 
woman as by another, where the choice was all his own way ?" 
said the Senator. " Moreover, is not my daughter as fair 
and as pretty as yours?" said he, with a tantalizing smile 
which fired the ladies to indignation. 

"Fair and pretty, your granny," said Mrs. Burdoe, with 
lips curled and eyes flashing vengeance; "the idea of a nigger 
being pretty. Who ever heard of such a thing? It is 
enough to make a dog blush. I don't care how white they 
are, when you know they are niggers, it destroys whatever 
good looks they might otherwise have." 

"Think of me and my child as you choose," said the Sen- 
ator. "I have this to say once and for all time to come — 
Maudelle is mine, and I am wholly responsible for what she 
is. She is part colored, I admit; but, that is the result of 
affection which I bear to her mother, the only woman I 
have ever loved." 

"I would never own it," snarled Mrs. Stansberry. 

"Would you rather I should live a truth and name it a 
lie, Mrs. Stansberry?" said he. 

Mrs. Stansberry looked daggers, but made no reply. 
Senator Morroe continued — "Come what will, ladies, I 
shall never make my child the scape-goat to bear away my 
sins, which threaten to break social ties between me and my 
friends. If society demands an atonement and a sacrifice 
at my hands, of course I am ready to make it." 

"Will you allow your friends to dictate the terms on which 
you shall make the atonement?" said Mrs. Truman. 

"No, madam, I shall be judge and jury of my own case," 
said he. "I shall manage my own case, because I perceive 
you ladies are not disposed to be just to all parties con- 
cerned." 

"We see, you want to dodge the duty you owe your 
friends," said Mrs. Burdoe. 



2C 



MAUDELLE. 



"If my friends would impose upon me any obligations 
which tend to compromise my manhood, and make me any- 
thing less than a dutiful father, we shall never agree," said 
the Senator. 

"The only obligation we would impose upon you, sir, is 
that you sell that little nigger brat and her mother, and marry 
a decent white woman, and live as becomes a Southern 
gentleman," said Mrs. Burdoe. 

"Ladies, if to sell my child and her mother, is the price 
of my place in society, I shall always be society's debtor. 
My home shall be their home, and if my friends cannot be 
their friends, then I shall find means to live without them," 
said the Senator, in a voice as stern and full of intense mean- 
ing, as a judge delivering a sentence. 

"Then you defy the mandates of society and the admoni- 
tion of your friends, I suppose?" said Mrs. Burdoe. 

"Just so long as my friends are inconsistent, and society 
rotten, I shall adhere to the dictates of my own conscience, 
which I believe is a much safer moral guide," said he. 

"Look out, sir, look out," said Mrs. Truman. "When 
you say society is rotten and your friends inconsistent, your 
language is decidedly too strong and insinuating. Unless, 
sir, you can give satisfactory reasons for your attack on 
society and the insult to you friends, we shall hold you 
responsible," said she, in a voice tremulous with excite- 
ment. 

"Very well, ladies, I shall explain myself," said the Sen- 
ator. "You do not censure me because I am the father of 
a child born out of wedlock, nor, because her mother is a 
colored woman, for there are hundreds of gentleman who 
have done likewise, many of w r hom are preferred leaders in 
your circle, well known to you and me. 

"Have you ever admonished them to do better? Of 
course not, and w T hy ? Simply because they have made com- 
mon merchandise of their own children — children whose 



21 



MAUDELLE. 



faces were the exact duplicates of their father's flesh and 
blood, a living, thinking and speaking counterpart of all a 
child can be of a father. 

" A man who would sell his own offspring is as brutal and 
void of conscience as a sow which would eat her own young. 

"It is passingly strange to me, that a mother, with a 
mother's heart, could look on the separation, the final part- 
ing of mother and child, without feeling a touch of humanity 
for the sufferers. But, perhaps those who sell their children, 
and those who sanction the inhuman practice, may never 
have thought, that they sell a part of themselves, and make 
themselves debtor to God for the possibilities of what that 
fettered soul might have been. 

"But, did these evidences of parental affinity, awake in the 
bosom of such a father any sense of mercy for his child? 
No, they were sold to suffer all the affliction of Southern op- 
pression. I have seen them, and so have you, ladies, torn 
from the arms of their black mothers by the ruthless hands 
of their white fathers, fettered as a pig, and hurried off to 
market. That was sufficient atonement for society, and 
you good ladies, who condemn me because I will not do 
likewise, are eminent exponents of your boasted society. 

"Ladies, I am opposed to amalgamation of the races, 
especially clandestinely; but, it is an old custom established 
by your fathers and mine, and we should end the custom, 
or accept its consequences in good grace." 

"We will never accept it as such," said Mrs. Stansberry. 

"Very well, you should incorporate a new element in your 
social code, if you would maintain it inviolate," said the 
Senator. "You should fix your social standard on moral 
worth and justice, which should as strongly protect the 
virtue and good name of a black woman as well as that of a 
white woman; anything less than that, is a hollow, soulless 
mockery of moral purity, and is not entitled to respectable 
notice." 



MAUDELLE. 



At this junction, Mrs. Col. J. C. Wilber, who was the 
fourth lady of the group came into the colloquy as an arbi- 
trator for peace. 

This circle of friends, like all others, high or low, good or 
bad circles, had its head or leader, its ruler and its court 
and judge of authority, from which no appeal could be taken 
and the circle remain intact. 

Mrs. Wilber was all this to one of the highest cultured 
circles in the town of H., Ky. Her white hair dressed back 
under a little shell of a white lace cap. Her plump, short 
neck draped with a white silk scarf, which fell a little way 
over the shoulders, which inclined the least bit forward, 
and upon which sat a classic head and beautiful round face. 
A remarkable face, not particularly for its beauty, because 
beauty is common to Southern women. But the face of 
Mrs. Wilber was more than mere beauty, although her age 
was beyond fifty, yet there was scarcely a trace of time upon 
her brow; aside from this, in her face was vividly and plainly 
photographed every feeling and emotion of the mind, every 
thought exposed, was balanced with light, shade and 
shadow, and seemed to stand out in unmistakable realistic 
parts. Those who sought her advice or opinion on matters 
pertaining to themselves were sure to get the truth as she 
saw it. In fact, Mrs. Wilber's face was an open book, and 
a synonym for all that is pure, good and just. 

A word from her was the signal for respectful silence. 
" Come, come, my friends," said she. "I fear you are push- 
ing this argument too far." 

Senator Morroe bowed his head in graceful obedience. 
The three lady combatants adjusted their skirts and put on 
sweet acquiescent smiles, preparatory to give an attentive 
audience to the little queen of the city of H. 

"Now, friends, let us calmly and dispassionately look 
at this vexed question from a view point of reason," said 
Mrs. Wilber. One of the ladies made an attempt to speak, 



23 



MAUDELLE. 



but Mrs. Wilber quickly raised her authoritative hand, 
and gave one of her smiles of modest disapproval, with a 
polite bow to the lady, which meant, you have had your 
say, please be quiet. 

"You all know," continued Mrs. Wilber, "that I am 
an uncompromising, a pronounced and bitter enemy against 
amalgamation of the races, either by legal process or il- 
licit co-habitation. I firmly believe that it is a sin against 
God, and if it is not checked, or stopped altogether, it will 
surely bring our people to grief. I firmly believe that com- 
mingling with the niggers will be ruinous to the exalted 
status of the white race, not only in this country, but will 
lower our moral standing with other civilized races of the 
world. 

"We should profit by a careful review of the Jewish 
history. Those people were admonished not to commingle 
with other races, and by their strict adherence to racial 
selection, that, after several thousand years of climatic 
wear out of their native country, they still carry the Jewish 
cast of features, and a clean-cut type of ancient identity. 

"But the thing which I dread most, and it is that which 
every mother should dread; is, the possible result of re- 
actionary force of this morbid, moral crime, should it re- 
turn upon us. 

"I fear that this unwarranted illicit co-habitation will 
in time, assume such extensive and dangerous propor- 
tions, that it will recoil upon its origin, or to be plain; I 
fear that our niggers will attempt to imitate their masters, 
and will not stop with the freedom of their own kind, but 
that our daughters will be unsafe from nigger brutality, 
unless guarded with gun and dogs. 

"When this comes, we cannot blame anyone but our- 
selves. It will be our sins finding us out. 

"Our statesmen, and even our ministers of the Church 
of God, are utterly silent, or, if they speak at all relative 



24 



MAUDELLE. 



to these matters, it is rather in favor, than against the sin 
of co-habitation. They preach the doctrine, that our 
property right in niggers allows us to make any disposi- 
tion of them we please. 

"Of course we all believe that the only mission in this 
world for a nigger, is to labor for the aggrandisement of 
the whites. But if we go on abusing our God-given rights, 
by commingling w T ith thern, and they thereby lose their na- 
tive identity, what may we expect but retribution ? 

"We are told that there are no laws against the crime, 
hence no legal law is violated, I am sorry to say, that we 
women seem to be powerless to create popular sentiment 
sufficiently strong, either in church, state or social circles 
to break it up. Since this is the case, I take this indepen- 
dent position and that, too, without any hope or expec- 
tation of followers. 

"I believe it is the duty of every honorable gentleman 
to give his children the care and protection of a father. 

"Notwithstanding their slave mother and illegitimate 
birth, they are half their father's body and soul. 

"I believe such children should be educated by all 
means, and allowed to take their place among free nig- 
gers of the North. This would in some sense be a partial 
atonement for their father's conduct, as well as to enable 
the children to make good use of themselves, and also to 
take care for their white father's flesh and blood." 

At this point, the announcement for refreshments ended 
the colloquy, with an almost, open endorsement of the 
position of Senator Morroe. 



CHAPTER III. 



A father's last advice. 

On the next morning, Senator Morroe, sat in his 1 - 
brary watching humming birds flitting from flower to 
flower then dancing away in the cool, soft air of one of 
Kentucky's most beautiful and refreshing November morn- 
ings. 

When not amused by the tiny spirit-like birds, his face wore 
an expression of serious meditation. Whether it was the 
effect of the social storm of the previous day, or whether 
he felt (as some do) a premonition of an approaching mis- 
fortune, is not known. It was one of those periodic part- 
ings of soul and body, as it were, which come to us all 
and beget gloomy feelings which we cannot explain. 

One is neither ill nor in bad humor; but, it seems one 
has lost himself and dropped into a state of irresistible 
depression. These unaccountable moods often move 
women to tears and men to the intoxicating cup. It may 
be, in such moods, that the ever watchful and wakeful 
spirit foresees an uplifted shaft of threatening fatality, 
and our affrighted humanity seems to stand on the sharp 
edge of dissolution, dreading the downward stroke; the 
soul sounds the alarm along the nerve centers to our sen- 
sitive nature; to up, up! and fortify against the onslaught. 

Such was one of these spells which held Senator Mor- 
roe as securely as the unfortunate victim in the arms of 
an octopus. But a close observer might have seen a grad- 
ual waking of the sensibilities and a far-off resolution, 
concentrating its fragmentary parts into tangible shape, 
until it burst out in these words: "It is right, it is just 



26 



MAUDELLE 



and honorable, and I will do it, so help me God," said 
he, as he sprang to his feet with a snap of the finger. "Yes, 
I will marry Mary, and I will make Maudelle one of the 
most accomplished ladies in Kentucky. She has the ca- 
pacity, and I have the means. Let the people do their worst, 
if God is pleased let the world howl itself hoarse. It is 
my duty to provide for my child, and duty is a part of my 
religion which has a stronger claim on me than anyone's 
friendship." 

Just then the library door swung back on its silver-plated 
hinges, and Maudelle came skipping in with a tastefully 
arranged tiny bouquet which she pinned on the lapel of 
her father's coat. "You shall look pretty to-day," said 
she. 

"You look pretty without them," said her father. 

"Well, people say I am like you, so you must be pretty 
too," said she. 

"You are a great philosopher, my dear," said her father. 

"You are my teacher, and that too, I have gotten from 
you," was her ready reply." 

"This reminds me, Maudelle, that you are old enough 
and sufficiently intelligent to understand a secret which 
I have kept from you all these years," said her father. 

"And am I to keep the secret for you, papa?" said 
Maudelle. 

"O no," said he, "everybody knows it." 

"Then you have told everybody but me, I suppose," 
said she, with an injured look of childish disappointment. 

"No, Maudelle, I have told no one," said her father. 

"Then I cannot see how it can be a secret, if it is already 
known by the public," said she. 

He then told her that her mother was a colored woman, 
which slightly identified her with the colored race, but," 
said he, "I love you just as dearly as I would were you 
white." 



^7 



MAUDELLE. 



"You are my daughter, and only child, and if you live, 
and I live, it is my intention to give you every opportun- 
ity to become an accomplished lady." He drew the child 
close to his bosom and lovingly patted her cheeks, as though 
that hour was to be the beginning of an atonement for 
her illegitimate being and the inevitable indignities sure 
to be inflicted upon her, by the people of his race. 

Maudelle was greatly puzzled to fully comprehend the 
meaning of that strange combination which gave her that 
parental stroke of color. 

What had her mother's color to do with hers any more 
than the color of the dog or the cat with which she played. 
She saw that she was much whiter than her father, and how 
could she be part colored? Of course her mother was 
not as white as she or her father; but, what had that to 
do with her case? 

Her father gave no further explanation; but waited in 
silence, that her mind might have time to work its own 
way to a solution of the parental enigma. 

During the few minutes silence his imagination pictured 
Maudelle into a handsome, intelligent, cultured woman, 
with no visible sign of negro blood in her. He saw her sub- 
jected to severe temptations. He saw her battling like a 
little giant for her character and her good name. Can 
she hold her ground? thought he. Can she stand on her 
feet and give back blow for blow to the enemy, or will 
she be driven to the wall and forever crushed? 

God forbid that her fate should ever be that of her 
mother, and yet, what better can I expect, than that my 
life should be stereotyped in that of my child? 

These thoughts brought up sighs of intense pain from 
the heart of that great man. 

He resolved to strengthen her mind as much as possible, 
while it was yet tender and susceptible. 

"Maudelle," said he, "you are now but a little girl, 

28 



MAUDELLE. 



and may not understand all I am going to tell you, but 
it may come to you as you grow older, and at the time 
you may need it most." 

After explaining to Maudelle the relation the colored 
and white people sustained to each other, the abject, 
helpless condition of the one, and the absolute autocratic 
power of the other, he gave her some wise and fatherly 
advice. 

It was the last lesson — the lesson to last for a life-time. 

For several days previous he had been preparing to go on 
a long journey, and having in mind, the dangers incident to 
the life of a traveller, he felt it expedient to say more to 
Maudelle than he otherwise would have done on some other 
occasion. 

It was fortunate for Maudelle that he did so, and that 
her father told her so many things which became very 
useful to her further along in life; for such an opportunity 
never came again — but, little did he or she think so at the 
time. 

"Maudelle," said he, "I have now made you better ac- 
quainted with yourself, now it remains for me to give you 
a few words of advice which may be useful to you, for the 
establishment of an unblemished moral character, my 
daughter, be temperate in all things. 

" Remember, to eat too much, to sleep too much, to talk 
too much, to assume to know more than you do, is only a 
little less sinful than to lie, and to steal. 

"Talk when you have something to say, say it in the best 
and most simple way you can, then stop. Never use 
a big, double-jointed word when one more modest and 
simple will serve you. Weigh your words with as much 
care and nicety, as a druggist weighs poison; for, one is 
no less dangerous than the other. 

" Never make the fatal mistake that thousands do daily, 
impart all your secrets and business affairs t r > friends, 



29 



MAUDELLE. 



and expect your friends to keep them as sacred as you would 
yourself. They who are warm friends to-day, may be 
deadly enemies tomorrow; then your secrets will be forged 
into two-edged swords to cut and wound you to the death. 

"Look out for danger when you are over-praised, petted 
and flattered; it is the estimate a fool puts upon character. 

"Shun the dealer who offers you too much for your 
money; he intends at some other time and in some way, 
to steal the difference in his favor. 

"Justice holds an even balance; other weights and 
measures which tip too much in your favor, are signpo~ts 
to the down grade of human character. 

"Never allow yourself, my daughter, to be long indebted 
to anyone for favors; but, always pay for values received, 
in the shortest possible time. 

"Never ask anyone to do for you, what you can con- 
eniently do for yourself, unless it is merely to give employ- 
ment to the deserving needy; because, it will take the earn- 
est effort of your heart, your hands and your head, to make 
life a success. 

"When you believe you are right, stand your ground 
against the world; you may lose the object for which you 
battle, but you will win what is better — a name for truth 
and fidelity, which is inestimable. 

"Some may advise you to select some person as a model 
after which to shape your life; it is well enough to imitate 
great virtues of the pious and good, but, my daughter, 
by no means go so far to be merely an echo of others. 

"This will do for the mediocre; but, not for one capable 
of reaching great excellence by individual exertion of men- 
tal power and moral worth. 

•You. should create for yourself, explore new fields, 
and hew out new routes, leave the old, beaten tracks when 
you have discovered a by-path which leads a nearer and 
s^fer way to a great principle, or a newly-discovered truth, 



MAUDELLE. 



and let the world follow you, and not you the world, un- 
less it leads to assured righteousness. 

" Never repulse one who gives you advice; but, before 
you put it into practice, thoroughly analyze it, turn the light 
of reason and truth upon it, strike out and amend until 
it is reduced to common sense. Be virtuous, upright, 
honest and just. 

"Never forget, nor neglect to pray — whether you are 
a professed Christian or not, prayer can certainly do you no 
harm, but, on the other hand, it will fortify the soul against 
temptation, strengthen the moral sensibilities, keep up 
your credit with your Heavenly Father, and entitle you 
to His protection in times of danger. 

"No doubt, when you round out into womanhood, you 
will be w T hat the wwld calls handsome. But let me as- 
sure you, my dear little girl, that beauty is a dangerous 
thing to own, without a firm decision of character, and a 
well-matured resolution to do right. 

"Maudelle, be a womanly woman, and fill your corners 
in God's world with such adornments as Providence has 
placed within your reach. See to it, my daughter, that 
your part of the great field of duty and usefulness, may 
evolve something for humanity, purer and better in the 
future, than what w r e have in the present age, by the de- 
votion of your life to great and good works. 

"Accept no offer to marry a man who is not identified 
with the colored race, nor one who is, unless he is worthy 
of you, and in full sympathy with your efforts to better 
the condition of the colored people. 

"Keep my advice, and not only my love, but all my 
material worth shall be yours when I am no more." 

At this point both embraced, and both were moved to 
tears; but why? no one could tell. 

No doubt Maudelle partially realized that the advice 
given her in some way pointed to a day when there would 



3i 



MAUDELLE. 



be a final parting from home and parents, and a going 
out into the broad world all alone, to rely upon her own 
judgment and moral strength. 

She knew that her father's advice had more in it than 
she could possibly understand, and that she would have 
to wait for age and experience to more fully explain. 

But to leave parents, home, and home comforts at any 
time of life must not be. 

It was a thought too dangerous and too distressing to 
toy with, for fear it might in some way, take the shape 
of positive reality. 

Why Senator Morroe should feel sad, no one can tell, 
neither could he. 

True, he was going away for a week or ten days; but 
he had been away before without any serious misfortune, 
but there was a solemnity on this occasion, for which no 
reasonable account could be given, except that in an ex- 
pression behind the veil, which was telling the story to be 
felt and not heard. 

It was evidently to be the last journey, the final sep- 
aration of father and daughter, and all that was dear to him 
on earth was to be torn asunder from him by an impass- 
able gulf. 

Little did he think that he was so rapidly nearing the 
end of life, especially a life so full of promise and physical 
vigor as was his, which could but cheer one with the fond 
hope of many years ahead. 

Little did he think that the warm, throbbing heart, within 
twenty-four hours would make its last stroke, and like a great 
machine, slowly come to a stop, and to move no more, to 
feel no more pity, no love, no pain for itself or others. 

Little did he think that his ideal woman in Maudelle, 
the child, was so soon to have an unrealized ending, and 
a father and father's hopes would be buried together in 
an untimely grave. 



32 



MAUDELLE. 



But, such was the fate that hung over him like a black 
cloud heavily charged with a thousand bolts, vying with 
one another for the first blow upon the unsuspecting head 
of its marked victim. Only a few more unbroken moments 
moored the soul to the body, then w T ould come the disso- 
lution, the leap to eternity. 

O were it possible for man to know his end but a few 
hours ahead — if some supernatural finger could but slip 
the veil aside, which obscures the mortal vision from the 
inevitable blade of death, he would crowd the work of a 
life-time into an hour, make peace with God and man, 
and die out of debt to the soul. * 

But we must no longer delay the painful story of Sen- 
ator Monroe's end by philosophising on a subject which 
might be admissible on some other occasion. 

A few minutes after Senator Morroe had finished his 
advice to his daughter, footsteps of a man were heard in 
the hallway, approaching the library. A tap on the dcor, 
admitted the Rev. Noah Adams, who was making his usual 
call. Maudelle, w T ho had always given the Rev. Adams, 
— the preacher of her father's church, a warm and friendly 
welcome, on this occasion was rather shy and reserved. 
Not that the child had taken any dislike to Mr. Adams, 
who heretofore appeared to head the list of her friends, 
but the lesson of the morning had been a startling revela- 
tion to her, and she saw the world as never before. She 
had seen the mask fall, and the sins of a great people ex- 
posed. 

Was Rev. Adams no better than the race whom he rep- 
resented? Did he, too, wear a deceptive covering over a 
heart full of hatred and prejudice against the negro, whose 
only sin, was that of being a helpless slave? 

Was he a mouth-piece for God and yet a living lie, a 
black-hearted hypocrite, a dissembler, a white sepulchre 
full of rottenness? 



33 



MAUDELLE. 



Was he, too, a dealer in human flesh, in the blood and 
bones of a defenseless people? 

Was this man whom she had heard preach from Sun- 
day to Sunday with such burning eloquence, and eluci- 
date so clearly and touchingly on the mercy and goodness 
of God to all men, only a mocker of God, only a gilded, 
delusive, beguiling sign-post along the " Broad-road ' 7 to 
hell and was his entire race tending that way ? 

Such was the silent inquiry of Maudelle. She felt her- 
self every moment losing faith in the great divine of the 
town of H. She trembled when she found herself not only 
losing faith, but respect for every white face among her 
acquaintances, many of whom she had truly loved. 

It was the custom of Rev. Adams to spend a few min- 
utes in devotional exercise with Senator Morroe before 
leaving him. 

As the two gentleman kneeled in prayer, Maudelle stole 
out of the room, a thing she was never known to do be- 
fore. 

The two gentlemen had not more than bowed in prayer, 
when the screams of a woman and the cries of a child for 
help, brought them to their feet from an unfinished prayer. 
Senator Morroe dashed out of the library, through the arch- 
way, and into the hall and thence into the parlor, closely 
followed by Rev. Adams. The first object which met the 
sight of Morroe, was Mary, the mother of Maudelle, pros- 
trated on the floor, struggling beneath the heavy blows 
of a large man, to whose arms Maudelle clung and fran- 
tically crying "Papa, papa, Oh, papa!" 
H Senator Morroe seized a chair, and with a powerful swing 
brought it down on the man's head with a crash. The 
blow felled the offender to the floor; but, in an instant he 
regained his feet, and with eyes blazing with rage, sprang 
upon Morroe like a wounded tiger, grappled with him, 
and plunged a keen knife into his body a half dozen times 



34 



MAUDELLE. 



in rapid succession, and would have hacked him to pieces 
on the spot, but for the interference of Rev. Adams. 

The assassin broke away from Mr. Adams and sprang 
out at the parlor window and was gone before any one 
of the servants could reach the bloody scene. 

The Senator sank down on the floor in a swoon from the 
shock and loss of blood, which flowed copiously from 
seven severe ugly gaping wounds. He was removed to 
his bed-room, and there given all the attention within the 
knowledge of those present, while Uncle Peter made all 
possible haste to the town of H. on Thunderbolt, for 
medical skill. 

Doctors Brandy, Osgood and Draper, with panting 
horses, answered the call with incredible dispatch. Poor 
old Aunt Millie, bent under the age of sixty-seven years, 
felt that life was only valuable to her, so long as she could 
serve her master. She had nursed him from the time he 
was but one day old, when his good, pious, Christian mother 
lost her life by giving him his ; and Aunt Millie assumed the 
duty of mother and nurse. 

Aunt Millie met the doctors at the door with eyes suf- 
fused with tears, and outstretched arms tenderly and im- 
ploringly begging, "O doctors, for God sake, for Jesus' 
sake, save my Georgie; O Lord, he must not die, I can't 
stand it; O, Jesus, please let me die fust; do, Lord, har yo' 
child dis one time, and spare my boy a little longer." 

The doctors promised the distressed old woman that they 
would do all in their power to save her master. 

Hoping the reader will excuse a minute's digression, 
although in the immediate presence of death, but we must 
record the thought before it takes wing, perhaps forever. 

Only those who have lived South long enough to under- 
stand the social relations between the colored and white 
people, can fully appreciate that strong tie of friendship 
between the two. 



35 



MAUDELLE. 



The case of Aunt Milliefandjher sincere affection for 
her master, is the case of tens of thousands. Not that the 
mothers of the white children have died, and black women 
have mothered their babies, but because it is true that 
there are hardly ten original southern whites out of a hun- 
dred, who have not been nursed at the breast of a black 
woman, and these people point to their "Black Mammies" 
with pride, and the black women love them with a 
mother's tenderness. 

Such nourishment given by the black mammies to the 
white babies for eighteen months or two years, was not 
only the direct contribution of first elements for body build- 
ing, but has blended the flesh and blood of the two races, 
which has interwoven traits of character in the nature and 
constitution of the two, that is reallly phenomenal. 

There are ties of genuine affection on the part of the 
blacks for the whites, and a sincere, tender regard on the 
part of the whites for the blacks, which will be as lasting 
as the recollections of the relation of master and slave 
exists. 

Back to the sick-room in haste. A careful diagnosis 
of Senator Monroe's case, gave him less than twenty-four 
hours to live. His condition was kept a secret from the 
servants, that they might not disturb him by wailing aloud. 

Rev. Adams who had waited at the bedside of his friend 
until the doctors came and passed on the wounded man's 
case, now returned home with a heavy heart to tell the sad 
story to his household. 

At this time the Adams family were entertaining Doctor 
Joseph Gillispie from Boston, Mass., who was an old 
school-fellow of Mr. Adams at Harvard College. These 
two gentlemen generally agreed on such topics as science 
and religion, but differed widely on the slavery question, 
which was then being agitated and excitedlv discussed 
on both sides of the Atlantic. 



36 



MAUDELLE. 



It was now just one year after the publication of " Bible 
Defence of Slavery," by Rev. W. S. Brown, of Kentucky. 

That book against the negro, was the "most unkind cut 
of all;" but it brought to the negro's defence some of the best 
talent of pen and speech, this or any other country ever 
produced. Air. Brown not only gives the negro a jet- 
black origin through Ham, whom he says God caused to be 
born black in the house of Noah, but he labors hard through 
sacred and profane history to prove that the negroes were 
especially created for servitude in menial positions. 

But worse vet, he questions their title to salvation through 
Christ. See " Bible Defence of Slavery" by W. S. Brown, 
Glascow, Kentucky. 

Doctor Gillispie and Rev. Adams had already held sev- 
eral warmly- contested arguments on the slavery question, 
and now that Senator Morroe was struck down for de- 
fending a negro woman, the occasion gave a new impetus 
to the subject. 

Not that it was anything new in the South for the owner 
of a slave to challenge his white neighbor to meet in deadly 
combat, because of the unauthorized chastisement of a 
slave. However, this particular case was something more 
than merely defending one's property right in man or 
woman; it was a white man — a Senator of the United 
States, distinguished for learning and wealth, striking in 
defence of the woman he loved, and with whom he had 
for eight years lived as her husband. 

The cause which led to Monroe's misfortune might have 
been avoided by a little preservation of temper and pa- 
tience on the part of Alary, which can be explained in a 
word. 

Morgan Sanders, a painter, was employed by Senator 
Morroe to do some work in the parlor, and by some means, 
the scaffolding gave way, and in its fall broke several things 
of value, among which was a bust of Judge Morroe, the 

37 



MAUDELLE. 



Senator s father. This was a costly and highly valued 
piece of art, which could not be reproduced or repaired 
for ten times the first cost. 

Mary boiled over with rage, and not only ga.ve Sanders 
a severe scolding, but made at him and belabored him 
with the broom-stick. 

For a negro to strike a white person in Kentucky, was 
a thing so very unusual, that Sanders forgot to make any 
allowance for her authority in the Morroe mansion. He 
retaliated with a heavy blow and was punishing her in 
the manner stated, when Morroe came in upon him, and 
the reader knows the result. 

When matters pertaining to the social standing of Mor- 
roe were talked over in the Adams family, Mrs. Adams 
was very severe in her vituperations upon Morroe for his 
choice of a negro woman, for his connubial partner. 

Mrs. Adams was one of those high-toned Southern 
women, who was distinguished for piety and a strict ad- 
herence to morality, and under no circumstances, would 
she come in touch with anyone whose morals were the 
least tainted. For this reason she was loved and respected 
by old and young. Her advice was regarded as something 
not to be questioned — she was always right in the eyes of 
society, and the standard she set was the one to which 
the good and pure subscribed. 

Mrs. Adams was rather old-timey in her expressions; 
but her frank, open face was a true index to her honest 
heart. 

"You may all try as much as you please,'' she said, 
"to make excuses for that ramshackling way in which 
George has been living with that nasty hussy; but I have 
not one bit of sympathy for him. He has brought it all 
on hisself by tarnal foolishness. Lord O messy! Lord O 
messy! what can a white man be thinking about to go and 
dash hisself away with a tarnal ape of a nigger woman?" 



38 



MAUDELLE. 



"It is but natural, Mrs. Adams, that a man should de- 
fend the woman he loves," said Doctor Gillispie. 

"The woman he loves, your granny," said Mrs. Adams. 
"You might talk to me till doomsday and I would not 
believe that a white man could love a confounded nigger 
trollop. No sir, it is all a doggish notion that some men 
have. Maybe if a few more get stabbed, they will learn 
some sense." 

"Mother, mother," said Mr. Adams, "I would not be 
so cruel as to wish anyone else to meet George's fate. No 
doubt George likes Mary, and — " 

Here Mrs. Adams cut him off. "Likes Mary, the cat's 
foot — no decent white man is foolish enough to like a nigger 
strumpet so well as to get killed for her — if he does let him 
go." 

"Why Mrs. Adams, it is a blessing to love," said Doc- 
tor Gillispie. "Do you know that love is a law of God? 
it is God, and he or she who exhibits the larger measure of 
love, evidences the fact that they are made up of more of 
the elements of God, than they are of animal. 

"Love recognizes species; but not color — custom may 
make a difference in color; but neither the law of man, 
or custom can dig a chasm so deep, nor build a wall so high, 
so as to make the way impassable for determined love." 

"I can't see any good sense in all your fine fang-dangle 
philosophy, unless you can show me what a thick-lipped, 
shine-eyed, spraddled toed, nappy-headed, flat-nosed, kid- 
ney-footed, sheep-shanked nigger woman has about her 
that a white man, with a thimbleful of sense, can love. 
It is all nonsense to talk to me," said Mrs. Adams. 

"Why, Mrs. Adams, there are many considerations 
which bring the species together, that are various," said 
Doctor Gillispie. "I will not say it is beauty, because 
beauty is fragmentary and is never found replete in one 
person. It is difficult to fix a standard, to satisfy the 

39 



MAUDELLE 



public's ideal picture of beauty ; because we look at it from 
our own point of observation, and our point of sight can 
never be that of another, since our picture is movable. 

"Our tastes differ as well as our sight. I have often 
heard remarks made thus — 'What did he see in her to love 
or what did she see in him?' The fact is, that he or she 
saw something attractive that was never seen by anyone 
else, and for that something, the two gave themselves to 
each other. 

"This mutual correspondence of souls is sometimes 
blind to color or creed, and of all love, that kind is the most 
pure and trustworthy," said Doctor Gillispie. 

"O w r ell, Doctor," said Mrs. Adams, "it is no use to 
talk to me about nigger beauty, and nigger love and all 
that. I am out of patience with the whole mess. Lord 
O messy! Lord O messy! I, I — " A knocking at the door 
saved Mrs. Adams from saying something ugly. Cindy, 
the servant girl, admitted Mrs. Burdoe who had "run in 
to get the news," she said, from the Morroe mansion. 

The two ladies repaired to the parlor for a secret chat, 
and left the two gentlemen in the study, who gradually 
renewed their argument on the political and social status 
of negroes, should they once become free. The picture 
Mr. Adams drew was frightful, and this led up to some 
sharp cuts for and against the negro race, and the solution 
of their final outcome. The bark of a dog, and call of a 
man at the gate, put an end to the discussion. 

"A late caller," said Doctor Gillispie, as he glanced at 
the clock which marked twenty-three minutes past eleven 
P. M. 



40 



CHAPTER IV. 



A DYING MAN PERFORMS HIS OWN MARRIAGE CEREMONY. 

A man crawled down off his horse and came shuffling 
up the lawn, and walked toward the Adams residence in 
great haste. 

"Why, father, it is Uncle Peter," said Mrs. Adams, 
who stood holding the door open that the lamp might 
reflect its rays on the late visitor. 

Mr. Adams hastened to the door to meet the old faith- 
ful servant of the Morroe family, who came to bring the 
latest news from his wounded master. 

"Peter, how is your master?" said Mr. Adams. 

"Marse George wosser sah, worsser he is," said the old 
servant. 

"I expected it," said Mr. Adams. 

"Me, too, sah," said Peter, as he turned away his head 
and drew his coat sleeve across his eyes to brush away the 
tears which were tracing the furrows that age had chis- 
elled on his honest cheeks. 

"Have you any message for me?" said Mr. Adams. 

"Yes sah, Marse George saunt me fur you to come 
over sah, uf you please sah. He say fur you to fotch de 
gemmin wid you, what come from Boston, sah," said the 
old man. 

"All right, Peter, you may go back and tell your master 
that Doctor Gillispie and I will be there in a few minutes," 
said Mr. Adams. 

The old servant hurried off, while Mrs. Adams bustled 
about and got the hats and canes for the two gentlemen, 
all the while quarrelling to herself. "Lord O messy! Lord 



4i 



MAUDELLE. 



O messy! poor George! O, well he brought it all on hisself 
by tarnal foolishness." 

With lantern in hand, the two gentlemen set out on foot, 
for the Morroe mansion; it was near midnight. The moon 
had gone down and thereby seemed to have left the night 
much darker than if there had been no moon in the first 
part of the night. 

It was one and a half miles to the Morroe mansion, to 
follow the pike, but, by going across the plantation, the 
distance could be shortened by a half mile. 

The gentlemen took the short route, picking their way, 
walking close to one another, and said but little. No 
doubt they were impressed with the solemnity of the oc- 
casion, as we are when summoned to the death bed of a 
friend, especially at a late hour of the night. 

Somehow, there is a strange feeling which creeps upon 
one when in the presence of death, that the bravest cannot 
shake off. 

I know that it is man's nature to assume great bravery, 
and to boast of his proof against that timidity which sen- 
sibly affects women and children when about the dead. 

I know that death becomes a common thing on the 
battle-field; but, that wholesale departing of souls is not the 
subject now. 

We are not exactly afraid of the dead, of course not; 
because any fool knows that the dead have no power 
to injure him, or at least, he reasons that way and con- 
tradicts his reasoning by acting differently. Because 
there is something back of all the reasoning which 
alarms one. " Death makes cowards of us all," says 
Shakespeare. 

It must be that dreadful thing which produces death. 
It must be that visible effect of that invisible sting, which 
no human skill can stay, no power can beat back, no lock, 
no bars of iron and walls can turn. 



42 



MAUDELLE. 



We are not afraid of it, of course not; but, somehow, 
we have the most respectful reverence for its presence. 
We converse in an undertone, and move on tiptoe about the 
dead, and wear a face as solemn as they. Not that we 
will disturb the dead; but, somehow, we feel and act for the 
time, like holy, pious saints. 

But yesterday, we met our fellow with whom we joked, 
and lied, and swore with careless impunity; but to-day he 
is dead, and under no circumstances would we repeat our- 
selves of yesterday, over his dead body, and why? Be- 
cause that invisible stroke of death has come uncomfortably 
near us. 

Again we know, or at least we believe, that there are 
two parts of man, the one we see lying cold and stiff, then 
there is that unknowable, mysterious, invisible part which 
has taken on a supernatural character, with which we can- 
not commune. Whether that character has departed, or 
whether it is in the chamber with us, we know not. Whether 
that thing called the soul, that wonderful intelligence, is 
not gazing right down into our innermost souls, and reading 
our every sin and crime against God and man, which we 
have kept covered for years, we know not. 

Whether there is one, two or as many thousands, such 
spirits about the dead, we know not — better we did, to be 
more at ease. 

Not knowing, we feel a kind of solemn panic, about as 
though a number of ill-designing persons were in the dark 
peeping at us through our window lattices. 

At such times, our souls are very sensitive; we are on 
the watch for danger. Not that we strong men are afraid, 
of course not. But, somehow, we earnestly inquire for 
the cause of a strange noise, and peer out into the 
darkness, and are not in a particular hurry to rush out 
and handle an object whose outlines cannot be readily 
determined. 



43 



MAUDELLE. 



But, mind you, we men are not afraid; but, somehow, 
we always feel decidedly more pleasant in the room with 
a companion who is napping, than one who is dead. 

You will find it much more comfortable to meditate in 
the garden at midnight, than in the most artistically ar- 
ranged cemetery. 

Yes, we all tread lightly upon the ground w T here soul and 
body part. 

We doubt not that these were some of the thoughts 
which crossed the minds of Mr. Adams and Doctor Gillispie 
as they groped their way toward the home of the dying 
man. 

Twenty minutes' walk brought them to the house, as 
the crowing of chickens in every part of the neighbor- 
hood told of the middle of the night. 

Aunt Millie met the gentlemen at the door and led the 
way upstairs to the sick-room, which presented that con- 
fusion, and usual appearance of distress common to all 
such rooms. 

Senator Morroe extended his nervous hand, hot with 
death's fever, which was rapidly burning away his last 
vital energy. 

Although it had only been fourteen hours since he was 
struck down, the features had undergone a great change, 
so there was little left of the man, except a well-propor- 
tioned frame-work, which tossed about on the bed. 

These fourteen hours of vital waste, had been one steady 
outpour of life force through seven deep, ugly gashes; 
until now, the end was near. 

The temples had fallen in, the nose had become thin, 
the eyes enlarged, and the neck elongated. 

Two other gentlemen were in the room who were just 
finishing a document — perhaps a will. 

Mr. Adams showed signs of disappointment at not 
being present when the will was made; but, he no doubt con- 



44 



MAUDELLE. 



soled himself with the thought that he had been made 
legatee of fifty or sixty thousand dollars, as well as executor 
of the Morroe estate. 

He thought this could not be otherwise, since Morroe 
was not only one of his disciples, but a warm personal 
friend and genial companion. 

This pious, Christian gentleman, was not without a lib- 
eral share of faults as well as those he so often reproved. 

First — he was ambitious, a great lover of money and 
fame, never refused a place of honor when offered to him, 
and very often sought high positions with the push and 
zeal of a politician. 

Secondly — he was a man of great self-esteem and rad- 
ical firmness, without the necessary balancing elements 
of discretion and judgment. 

He prided himself on quickness of comprehension, and 
was thereby as quick in decision of character, which had 
grown to be a serious habit with him. 

He often made answer before he had thoroughly under- 
stood the import of the proposition, and when he had once 
spoken, no matter whether he or others were the sufferers, 
he would under no circumstances, recant. He was sel- 
dom without a hot theological warfare on his hands, either 
with some minister in his own, — or some other church. 

He was a profound scholar, and no one seemed to know 
it better than he. Nothing appeared to give him more 
pleasure than to hear himself lauded. He was a fine speaker, 
close reasoner, and logical debater, and generally carried 
the day in an argument, because, aside from his ability 
to speak and think well, he had the rare faculty of antici- 
pating the course of his antagonist, and thereby answered 
all points of attack in advance. Two things greatly de- 
tracted from his fame — his voice and physical appearance. 

When under mental excitement, his voice was sharp 
and shrill, which wounded the ear and gave one a sense 



45 



MAUDELLE. 



of sympathy rather than pleasure at what he said, or rather 
how he said it. 

His speech, like his step, was quick. His anatomical 
construction was after the greyhound fashion, long and 
lank, six feet, one and a half inches in height, with long, 
sharp, thin, compressed lips, small gray eyes, three-story 
head pointing a little backward, light hair, thin on the 
top. 

His face was always smoothly shaved to a little below the 
chin, with a tremendous growth of beard about the neck, 
which lay over a high standing collar bound with a black 
stock. His age was sixty-three;buthewas wearing so well, 
that he would have readily passed for fifteen years younger. 

We have said this much about Mr. Adams to give the 
reader an idea of the man who will play an important part 
in the remainder of this, and the next chapter. 

Senator Morroe looked into the faces of his friends who 
stood about the bed, deeply touched with sorrow for his 
violent ending. "I am going, going, fast gentlemen," 
said the dying man, as he cleared his throat so as to make 
himself heard. 

"Yes, you are going, my dear George," said Mr. Adams; 
"but you will only be a few steps in advance of us. 

"I am glad man is born to die. I thank God that this 
life can be exchanged for one far better and without end. 
I am thankful that in the beyond, we shall not be human 
beings, nor even angels; but we shall be more exalted than 
either, we shall be sons of God and brothers of Christ, 
eligible to the untold riches of our Father. 

"Disease and its consequence can never follow us across 
the river of time and invade eternity: once across, we are 
absolutely safe." 

Mr. Adams spoke these words with such pathetic ten- 
derness, that it had the effect of making those present feel 
a desire to exchange conditions with the dying man. 



46 



MAUDELLE. 



"O, I am perfectly resigned to God's will," said Senator 
Monroe. "At first I thought my misfortune was hard, 
to be struck down at the age of forty-five when I was try- 
ing to be of use to others. It seemed to me, I should have 
been granted a few more days for charitable deeds. 

"This of course was the mortal part arguing. That was 
the part which belongs here, and which was making ex- 
cuses to stay here. But that immortal part which belongs 
to another kingdom is ready and even anxious to get away. 
There is only one thing about which I am concerned; 
with that off my mind, I want to be gone." 

"Thank the Lord for such a testimony," said Mr. Adams. 
"If there is anything dear George, within my power to do 
for you, or to assist others to do for you, I hope you will 
command me at once, and it shall be my pleasure to serve 
you." 

The sick man looked long and earnestly at Mr. Adams, 
then said in a voice tremulous, and as it seemed full of un- 
certainty for a favorable answer, "Brother Adams, you will 
not deny me then ?" 

"I will not deny you anything that is possible for me to 
do," said Mr. Adams. 

"It is possible for you, or I would not ask it of you." 

Mr. Adams extended his hand — "You may rely upon 
me, my dear boy, put me to the test; I am anxious to make 
proof of my friendship for you, and my interest in all that 
is dear to you." 

"Thank you, my dear brother, I am glad that I can die 
with your blessing upon my soul," said the dying man. 

"Please prop me up a little higher, gentlemen," said the 
Senator. 

He was brought to an almost sitting posture. After 
resting a while — "Come here, Mary," said he. Taking 
her by the hand said, "Now, Brother Adams, I want you 
to marry me to this woman, and then I am ready to die. 

47 



MAUDELLE. 



I have the license, and these three gentlemen will witness 
the ceremony." 

He looked Mr. Adams full in the face and waited for the 
answer. The eyes of all present, were turned on the min- 
ister. He felt their gaze burning into his very soul. His 
face turned red and then deathly pale. His long, thin 
fingers twitched and drummed on his breast, then on his 
sharp knees. His lips parted as though he would speak, 
which gave the spectators a feeling of relief, but hermetically 
closed again. 

The suspense w T as painful. Nothing but the deep breath- 
ing of Morroe was heard. Mary's head slowly sank upon 
her bosom, and the tears gushed from her eyes and fell 
heavily upon the floor. 

Little Maudelle, who sat on the bed fanning her father, 
not understanding the meaning of the death-like silence, 
burst into sobs which seemed to break the spell. 

Mr. Adams who had been sitting, sprang to his feet, 
and with a violent snap of the finger, and wild toss of the 
head, then said, "I will not do it, were it to save your 
life or mine. I will not bring a curse so infernally black 
upon my race and my calling. I would not break the 
laws of my country, and commit a sin so shameful against 
God, by marrying a nigger woman to a white man — no 
sir, never, never while God lives." 

He strode back and forth across the floor, biting his lips 
and mumbling something between his teeth. 

The disappointment to the dying man was pitifully de- 
picted upon his face. His eyes imploringly followed Mr. 
Adams; but that reverend gentleman avoided the appealing 
gaze, which would have moved him or the most hardened 
demon to compassion, had he met it. 

Doctor Gillispie and the other two gentlemen could not 
stay their tears; they feared that the violent shock to the 
dying man would carry him off at once. 



4 8 



MAUDELLE 



Mary sank down on the bed sobbing. "Then, Brother 
Adams, you refuse to grant my last request?" whispered 
Monroe. 

"Yes I do," snapped Mr. Adams. 

"Well it is all right, all right," said the dying man. 

"All right or not," said Mr. Adams, "it will go so. I 
have no respect for the white man who would marry a 
nigger woman." 

The sick man motioned for water — he drank, cleared 
his throat, although but a few minutes of life left, voice 
almost gone, yet there was a visible sign of resentment 
upon his brow. 

"Gentlemen," said Morroe, "I have lived with this 
woman for more than eight years. We have sustained 
all the relations of husband and wife, and I — " 

Adams broke in abruptly. "That was your right, your 
right, both moral and legal right, and it was your right 
to make any disposition of her you choose." 

"My dear brother," said the sick man, "I beg you not 
to interrupt me. Life is too near gone, to argue our dif- 
ference. I have a statement to make, then you may have 
the world. I say I have lived with this woman, and this 
is our child — my own daughter," placing his hand on 
Maudelle's head. 

"Gentlemen if it is so great a sin to marry the mother 
of my child it must have been a greater sin to have lived 
with her so long without a moral or legal right to do so. 
She is a colored woman it is true; but she was compelled 
to sacrifice her virtue to my will, and — " 

"Virtue, virtue, indeed," squalled Mr. Adams. "When 
you buy a nigger, you buy her virtue, (if a nigger can have 
such a thing.) I say you buy virtue, body and all, and 
one is as much at your disposal as the other." 

"That may be true when looked at in the light of prej- 
udice and the Southern custom," said Morroe, "but some- 

49 



MAUDELLE. 



how, gentlemen, I have never believed that any man has 
the right to take away both the liberty and virtue of a 
woman without at least making her some kind of repara- 
tive indemnity for the privation of liberty, and irreparable 
loss of virtue. 

" Twenty years a member of the church of which Brother 
Adams is pastor, and twenty years has Brother Adams 
been my spiritual adviser, and not a word of disapproval 
as to the life I have lived. But now when I propose to 
do what I consider to be honorable and just, I am insulted.' ' 

"If you are insulted when I would protect my honor 
and standing as a gentleman, and save you from shame- 
ful disgrace, then be insulted and be — " snapped Mr. 
Adams. 

"Ah, Brother Adams, Brother Adams, am I to be dis- 
appointed in you at last?" said the dying man. "I fear 
you have led me a blind captive these twenty years by your 
spiritual teaching, until now I stand on the verge of eter- 
nity, and you cruelly forsake me — here you leave me to go 
alone without your benediction. Had I no other hope 
what a poor substitute is all your teaching to offer a just 
God for eternal life. Thanks be to God for another source 
of grace, which I have always had and which you never 
knew. 

"It was pure, simple truth that did not mystify and lead 
me into abstract theories for the meaning. It begun when 
my life begun; it grew purer and stronger, as I grew older, 
until it became one unchangeable hope upon which now 
I rest the future destiny of my soul. She — gentlemen, 
has been my spiritual teacher," (pointing to Aunt Millie, 
who sat on the foot of the bed with his feet in her lap, 
which she was tenderly rubbing to keep up warmth.) 

"It was through her I got my first taste of eternal life. 
She was the only mother I ever knew, and she has filled 
her mission well— God bless my black mammie, who has 

So 



MAUDELLE. 



never ceased to follow me with her prayers. She is igno- 
rant, and a slave. She has no knowledge of your learned 
theology, and long polished, studied sermons; but she is 
wise, and most eminently rich in the grace of God. In 
her hope, I hope — her faith, is my faith, and in her God I 
trust." 

The sick man rested a while and gathered breath, then 
said, "come here my dear old saint, and stand up with 
Mary. Come forward, gentlemen, and witness a ceremony 
I shall perform for myself." 

He then took Mary by the hand and went through the 
marriage ceremony himself, and then said, "Mary, I have 
cruelly robbed you of your character and your liberty. 
Can you forgive me?" 

"I do with all my heart," said she. 

"O yes, of course you do — that is the God-like princi- 
ple of the negro, always forgiving and always being wronged. 
My dear Mary, by marrying you and willing to you and my 
child, all I have is the only atonement I can make." 

Mr. Adams looked on with a scowl of contempt upon 
his face. After some changes were made in the will by 
Attorney Lawson, through the suggestion of the sick man, 
(those present thought the parts struck out, referred to 
Air. Adams as one of the legatees; but were changed, owing 
to his conduct), Senator Morroe requested the lawyer 
to read the will and execute it as soon as he was dead, and 
not have it go through the process of probating. 

The will bequeathed to Aunt Millie and Uncle Peter, 
a farm of one hun-Jred and sixty acres of land, with all 
equipments to cultivate it as long as both or either one 
should live. Also, to Uncle Peter he gave Thunder- 
bolt, his fine horse. Next, the one hundred and sixty 
slaves were freed, and two hundred and fifty dollars in 
cash was given to each family and fifty dollars to each 
single person . 

S T 



MAUDELLE. 



The balance of the entire estate, with notes, stocks and 
cash, amounting to more than three hundred thousand 
dollars, was left to his wife and daughter Maudelle. 

In the event of the death or marriage of his wife, it was 
then to be kept in trust by Mr. Lawson, until Maudelle's 
majority; then the entire amount was to go to her. In 
case both died before Maudelle was of age, then the prop- 
erty was to go to H University. 

By the time the will was read, the dying man was almost 
gone, except that his mind w r as clear and working vigor- 
ously. 

Turning his eyes on Aunt Millie, the sick man said, 
"Mammie pray with me the last time." All present, 
except Rev, Adams, dropped to their knees. The old 
woman with face buried in her hands at the foot of the bed, 
began her prayer rather timid and hesitatingly. Embar- 
rassed, perhaps, by the presence of Rev. Adams and the 
other gentlemen of high-classed culture. 

Proceeding slowly, step by step, like one on dangerous 
ground, in the dark, until it seemed her soul became warm 
with an electric spark of grace from God's altar. Then with 
head erect, as though looking in the face of her God, and 
hands extended as though to receive the things for which 
she asked, the words rolled out in beautiful round periods, 
so correct, and so full of pathos, and so unlike the old 
woman's every-day language, that Doctor Gillispie turned 
on his knees and gazed in wonder at her. 

Of course her petition was strong and tender for the res- 
toration of her master, whom she spoke of as though he 
was her own child. 

One sentence only, w r e will reproduce: "O Lord, 
tor hi ty-three years we have walked together and communed ; 
I have worn myself out in Thy services, and my days of 
usefulness are past; take me this hour as a sacrifice, and let 
my dear boy, my Georgie live to do good in the Name 



52 



MAUDELLE. 



of Jesus.''' After her appeal, she sent up a touching 
prayer for Rev. Adams, whom she had known long, and 
loved well. 

She begged with such motherly tenderness for Mr. 
Adams — that God would not be displeased, with what 
appeared to weak humanity, a breach of his duty. Mr. 
Adams quietly kneeled down, and was heard to say ''Lord 
be merciful, " mingled with the responsive "Amens," from 
the other gentlemen. 

When Aunt Millie closed her prayer, Senator Monroe's 
face wore a smile, to be seen only on the face of one in 
close touch with the Holy Spirit. 

He tried to raise his hand; but his strength was too near 
gone, and he could only raise his fingers, to bid good-bye 
to all present. 

Mr. Adams came forward with the others and warmly 
grasped the hand of the dying man. "Now, mammie," 
whispered the sick man, kC I want you and all — the servants 
— in the house — to sing. Sing my dear old — spiritual — 
guide, — while your — boy — goes — through the valley — of the 
— shadow — of death." 

Aunt Millie, Uncle Peter and the other house servants 
gathered about the bed. Aunt Millie led this song through 
her tears, " Jesus meet me at the river, here is another 
soul to cross." Then the others joined in the chorus: 
"Come over the river, boatman," etc. 

His eyes were turned heavenward, and his hands were 
clasped over his breast. As the last verse came soft and 
sweet from his devoted servants, his hands fell heavy at 
his side and all present knew that the end had come. 

Rev. Adams and Doctor Gillispie returned home. 

Attorney Lawson and his clerk remained until Uncle 
Peter went for, and returned with the undertaker. 

Two days after the death, the funeral came. Beside 
a very large attendance of white friends, he was followed 

\ 53 



MAUDELLE. 



by one hundred and sixty-five ex-slaves, who were bewail- 
ing the loss of their indulgent master. 

Although those servants were now free, and with suffi- 
cient means to start life for themselves, they hung 
about the old homestead like children, as though they ex- 
pected their master to return to them again, and give orders 
for the beginning of their new life. Poor little Maudelle 
was wholly undone. She often slipped away, and spent 
hours at the grave of her father, which was in the old fam- 
ily graveyard, a few hundred yards from the house. But 
the loss of her father, friend "and genial companion," 
was comparatively nothing, to the life which lay before 
her, to be told in the next chapters. 



54 



CHAPTER V. 



A PREMONITION OF DANGER. 

A few days after the death of the Senator Morroe, Mary 
took the timely precaution to place all her valuable papers 
in the hands of Mr. Lawson, her attorney, as a means of 
safe guard against fire or robbery. (It was well she did.) 

For forty-eight hours, Mary had been arranging her bus- 
iness with all possible haste, preparatory to leaving the 
plantation, and moving North, for personal safety, and 
educational facilities for Maudelle. 

Moreover, Mr. Lawson had informed her that the white 
people were greatly excited, and highly incensed against her, 
for being the almost direct cause of Senator Monroe's death. 

He also said that the sentiment among the common 
people for revenge by lynching, had gone beyond the con- 
trol of the cool and more considerate citizens. 

True to that instinctive forewarning of a woman's sen- 
sitive nature, which seldom, if ever, gives her the wrong 
information, on matters of self -preservation, Mary felt 
the approaching danger which she knew that nothing 
could avert if she remained within reach of its fury. 

As another proof of apprehension, she had seen a great 
many half-intoxicated men running their horses on the pike, 
and flourishing their pistols as they passed the house, and 
making those wild exciting whoops, and yells, which were 
common to the reckless roughs. She had seen, and heard 
these threatening demonstrations before, when some human 
life was to be sacrificed. 

But until then, she was sheltered safely behind the strong 
and formidable arm of a master, whose power was seem- 



55 



MAUDELLE. 



ingly invincible, and whose authority in the community 
was never questioned. As a man of means and influence, 
he was one of the most important factors in that part of 
the state. 

But now, her defender was dead, and her condition 
had reversed itself, and she was not as secure from im- 
minent danger, as a common field-hand. 

Her previous advantage as mistress of the Morroe man- 
sion was all the more the cause of hatred and attack by 
the lower element of the whites. 

This was her share of the sin of an immoral life, return- 
ing to strike back at her with deadly aim, or like a wounded 
serpent in the act of self-destruction. 

Vice has its reward as much so as virtue, each of which 
will come back to the individual in exact measure for 
measure. 

After hurriedly packing such things as were absolutely 
necessary for the journey of her and Maudelle, she sent 
word to Mr. Lawson, her attorney, at five o'clock in the 
evening, that she was all ready, and would leave the plan- 
tation at daybreak the next morning. 

Mother and daughter felt as though the next day was 
removed from them by months, rather than but twelve 
hours. 

Mary had made Maudelle her companion and trusty 
confidant, as had her father also, so that the girl of seven 
years of age, understood all the inward and outward 
working of the household as well as her parents. 

In addition to this, her father had told her of the rela- 
tion she sustained to the white and colored race, and the 
information had become of practical use to her, much sooner 
than either expected. 

Thus Maudelle was enabled to enter into her mother's 
fear of foul dealing, and was cognizant of the irritating 
cause of alarm. These wonderful revelations and rapidly, 



56 



MAUDELLE. 



changing scenes and varied conditions, following so close 
upon each other within the last few days, had removed 
the little, merry, prattling girl, with all her childish notions, 
to calm reflections which more properly belonged to those 
many years older. 

Serious meditation had taken the place of merriment, 
sighs of distress, that of laughter, despondency, that of 
hope, fear, that of ease and contentment. So that Maud- 
elle was never a child again. 

As the day drew to a close, and the sun slowly settled 
below the horizon, to be gone twelve hours — twelve hours 
leadened with consternation for Mary and Maudelle. 

Mother and child bid the friendly King of Day good-bye 
through tears, with but little hope of ever seeing the light 
of another day. 

They watched the last touches and tints of high lights, 
penciled by nature, upon the broken outlines of the distant 
foliage. Then when all had faded out and left only a black 
line between earth and sky, it was like being left alone on a 
depopulated island in midocean; when the last friend 
had departed not to return. 

As the darkness grew deeper and blacker, and familiar 
objects began to part with their definite outlines, and as- 
sume fantastic forms with hideous disproportioned parts, 
which seemed to come on with threatening gestures, their 
breathing became faster and more labored, and their hearts 
beat quicker in response to the affrighted soul. 

Now that it was dark, Mary reproached herself that she 
had not taken Maudelle and gone to the forest for the night. 

She felt that the forest offered more safety among wolves, 
bears and wild cats, with one friendly dog, than to be pent 
up in a room which seemed more like a human slaughter- 
house, than a place of safe guard. 

But the thought of going to the forest had come too 
late to be of use, there was no better place now than up to 



57 



MAUDELLE. 



that dreaded room, and watch, wait, and hope for another 
day. 

There seemed to be an unusual stillness pervading the 
apartment. 

Of course the merry laugh and bird-like song of Maud- 
elle had not been heard since the death of her father. 

But somehow, on this particular evening, there was a 
suppressed and death-like hush never felt before. 

The only thing to be heard in the room was the cluck, 
cluck, cluck, of the wooden clock, and the noise of whose 
machinery, seemed to be intensified ten fold when it struck 
the hour. 

Mother and child sat in the dark room, rather than have 
light to give notice of their presence in the house. 

Their communication was carried on in whispers. 

At the bark of a dog, they were startled and drew closer 
together as the two sat on the same chair in breathless 
silence, expecting something worse to follow the friendly 
warning of the watch dog. 

Worn out by the hurry and fatigue of the day's packing, 
and then weary of watching for an attack at any moment 
that night, the two dropped off to sleep in each other's arms, 
and awoke only when alarmed by the old clock which ham- 
mered out half the night, with twelve strokes. Safe so 
far, they decided to go to bed and watch there, until near 
morning, and then steal an hour's sleep. 

The two then fell upon their knees and resigned them- 
selves to God's care. 

The evening devotion was customary under all cir- 
cumstances; but on this particular night the affrighted 
souls gave up new and pathetic impulses from the deep- 
est recesses of their hearts. 

On the part of the mother, there was a clean, open un- 
foldment of every known sin, (and mother-like), willing 
to be sacrificed if her child could be saved. The prayers 



53 



MAUDELLE. 



of mother and child were made without words. The 
prayer consisted in the sweet, trusty, truthful, confiding, 
silent language of heaven, of which God was interpreter, 
and not a thought, or the smallest fraction of a thought 
was lost. 

Once in bed the two were soon lost in sleep, and also 
lost to each other forever in this world, despite all effort to 
ward off sleep and watch through the night. I say "lost 
to each other/' because Jake, the negro traitor, was at 
that hour, skulking about their bedroom door, watching 
them off to sleep, while the two assassins were on then- 
way — and nearing the house with implements of death in 
their hands, and mother and daughter embraced, kissed, 
and bid good night and never saw each other's face again. 



50 



CHAPTER VI. 



A FAVORABLE NIGHT FOR A DARK DEED, 

As the full moon looked out above a dark, uneven out- 
line of the forest trees, and poised gracefully between the 
tree tops, and a dark blue bank of slowly creeping clouds, 
which stretched across the eastern sky, two men were seen 
to emerge from a bit of woods and cautiously peer out 
right and left, and then drew back a step or two. After 
whispering to one another for a few minutes, they stepped 
quickly from the woods, and like cats crossing an open 
street, they dodged across the two hundred yards of open- 
land to a clump of bushes and secreted themselves beneath 
the low boughs of a birch. A minute later, a third man 
was seen hurrying along half bent under the bank of a ravine, 
and then to suddenly disappear in the deep gorge. He 
was next seen to climb up the opposite side, and slip along 
the undergrowth and join the two men under the birch. 
The three men could be heard mumbling together for a 
minute, then all was deathly silence. Next was heard the 
approaching footsteps of a fourth person on the hard road. 
When he came near the clump of bushes he stopped, gave 
a low hiss through his teeth, which was in like manner re- 
sponded to by one of the men under the birch. He w T as 
evidently expected and the hiss was the signal agreed upon. 
He leaped the fence and joined the other three. 

Just then the moon broke away from the embrace of the 
clouds and shoved her broad, full face through the thin 
places of the foliage, and poured a silvery flood in the 
faces of the four men, three of whom were white and one 
black. Two of the white men were of rather low build, 



60 



MAUDELLE. 



poorly dressed, and had the appearances of hard usage. 
The third white man who was the last comer, was a well- 
dressed, tall, straight, graceful and scholarly-looking gentle- 
man, evidently an ill misfit for his comrades. The black 
man was one of the lowest orders of his race, ready to 
engage in anything mean. He was the bass note in the 
quartette. One would be forced to judge from the great 
disparity in the gentlemanly appearance of the one, and 
rough garb of the other three, that it was a case in which 
mental and moral superiority had surrendered its rights 
and descended to the lowest strata of humanity, in order 
to become accessory to some dark plot. A few minutes' 
interview, and the black man was motioned aside, while 
the three whites held a whispered council for ten or fifteen 
minutes. 

The tall man drew from his pocket a document which 
he read to the other two by the light of a wax match. Then 
followed a few minutes more of low mumbling, which often 
approached to angry growls. There was evidently some 
sharp points of disagreement, or stern hitch in the paper 
upon which they radically differed. 

At length, as though all restraint of secrecy was thrown 
off, the tall man snarled out between his teeth, "By George, 
boys, you are devilish hard I think." 

"I think not, Air. Adams," said one of the men in the 
same tone. "Ten thousand dollars is a very small portion 
of three hundred thousand dollars, since we have all the 
bloody work to do, and take the chance of exposure and get- 
ting our necks broke." 

"That is true enough," said Mr. Adams, "but confound 
it, I am to pay five thousand dollars in advance, then take 
the risk which may end in total failure." 

"Your risk, sir, is not so great as ours. We risk our 
lives and liberty against your money, and by thunder, may 
lose both," retorted the man. 

61 



MAUDELLE. 



"O well, what does a poor white man's or a nigger's 
life amount to anyway?" said Mr. Adams. 

"I know that we poor dogs have but little claim to life, 
but that has its value while it lasts," said the rough. 

"Four thousand down, and four thousand when every- 
thing is completed, what do you say to that?" said Mr. 
Adams. 

"How does that strike you, Jim?" said the other rough. 

"It is too d — cheap; but let her go," said Jim. 

Another wax match was struck and the paper signed by 
the parties. Mr. Adams drew from his pocket a large roll 
of bank notes, sat down on the grass and motioned the other 
two to join him. He then counted the money and passed 
it over to one of the men who recounted it. 

"Is it all there?" said Mr. Adams. 

"It is," said the man. 

"Very well," said Mr. Adams, "you have my money, 
and I want your unwavering service. Success depends 
wholly upon the skill and daring adventure of you fellows. 
Look well to the secure covering of your tracks. You must 
move as noiselessly as a ghost, and with the determination 
of a demon chasing a soul. Report to me if the plans 
miscarry. If you are caught and condemned to die for 
your crimes, you are not to betray me; if you do- — mark 
my words — I will turn it on you and will laugh in your 
faces when your necks are to be broken. If all goes 
well, report to me at once and I will pay the balance 
agreed upon." 

"But suppose — ," was all that could be understood, 
the balance of the sentence of the man Jim, fell below the 
ear and was lost, but one may guess what it was by the 
audible answer of Mr. Adams. 

"O, of course, of course, dispatch them both sooner 
than fail. The papers are worth more to me than the 
lives of two niggers are to the world." 

62 



MAUDELLE. 



"Good night, boys. Don't let the sun rise on an unfin- 
ished job." Looking at his watch by the light of a match, 
" You have more than three hours yet before you go on your 
mission. Good night, and success to you," said he, as he 
strode away and disappeared in the shadow of the bushes. 

A low hiss by one of the men was answered in person by 
the black man, who had been waiting a hundred yards 
away. 

"Look here, old nigger, can we depend on you to do 
your part of this job ?" said one of the ruffians. 

"Yo' sho kin gemmin, and dat's squar' goods," said 
the negro. 

"Do you think you have got your part of the work straight 
in that darned old woolly head?" said the rough. 

"I sho is fo' de Lo'd. He, he, he, and dat's squar'," 
said the negro. 

"Rehearse it over to us," said they. 

"Hurs you say? What's daf hurs mean gemmin?" 
said the negro. 

"Tell it over to us, you old cuss," said one of the roughs. 

"O yes, I see, I see. He, he, he, well sah, dat's what 
hurs mean. Ha, gemmin, you must sho talk old Kentuck 
to me or I'se no whar wid you and dat's squar'," said he. 

The negro then went over in details that part of the work 
he was expected to do. It was so cold blooded, and ut- 
terly inhuman to one of his own race, that one of the men 
whom they addressed as Jim, looked on the negro with a 
scowl of contempt on his face. The other white man who 
was as heartless and as low in the scale as the negro, shook 
his ringer in the negro's face and said, "now old coon 
remember well, there is no go back and live. Let heaven 
smile or hell frown and flash its hot flames in your face it 
is onward, onward, though we swim through blood and 
tears, there is no return. If you feel any childish com- 
punction of conscience, speak now." 



03 



MAUDELLE. 



"Dar yo' go wid a nudder high flutin'. What's punction 
mean boss?" said the negro. 

"You d — old wooden-headed ape," said the ruffian. 
"I mean away with all feeling of pity for man, woman 
or child. I mean away with all fear of God or the devil. 
I mean we are to have neither hearts nor souls of men 
that can be touched by appeals for mercy, until our work 
is done and done well. We are from this hour, wild beasts 
sniffing the midnight air for blood, warm blood, child's 
blood whose sinless soul needs no forewarning for its tak- 
ing off. We will, if we must — nicely and gently cut its 
throat, and return its spirit to its God before it becomes 
contaminated and defiled like its old mother. In that 
we will be benefactors deserving of the benediction of the 
world. Ha, Jim, ain't that so, old boy?" slapping his 
comrade on the shoulder. The speech was made with 
wild vehemence. 

"BravityO! bravityO!" said the negro, "Dat wasasho 
nuff speech — I doggy; gemmin, uf I cud spoke like dat, 
I wood be in congoss afo chrismus, or I'd be president 
ub de hole Kentuck nation. Does you har me gemmin? 
dat's squar' fo' de Lo'd. Fust place, gemmin, I'se gwine 
to sho' yo' why I'se gwine to stick wid yo'. Yo' see Mary 
is a stuck-up yeller nigger, and she thinks she's better'ern 
we blacks on's. Dat makes me mad and jist hate a yeller 
nigger, gemmin you kin see dat sho." 

"Hold on, hold on, old rack," said one of the men, 
"you are lying like a dog. You have had four wives in 
seven years, and each one was a yellow woman. How 
do you account for that?" 

The negro scratched his head, and wiped his mouth 
with his sleeve and then said, "W T ell, gemmin, yo' see, yo' 
see, I, I, well, I was getting 'venge. don't you see? he, he, 
he, dat's squar' goods sho." 

"You black devil, you are ahead. Go home and be 



64 



MAUDELLE. 



on the lookout for us. It is now half after nine, we will 
be there on time," said one of the men. 

"All right, gemmin, I, I, habs things ready for you as 
sho's my name's Jake Cobb, and dat's squar' goods sho." 

The two white men went their way and the negro man 
to the Monroe mansion. 

As the fowls bespoke the turn of the night, and all Nature 
relaxed again into a death-like slumber, Sam Dobson and 
Jim Bowler, the two white ruffians, were seen to emerge 
from the log hut which stood on the bank of a bayou, over- 
grown with cotton wood, upon which climbed the wild grape 
and muscadine. The night was cool enough for frost, 
which made heavy clothing comfortable. 

"A favorable night for a dark deed," said Sam, as the 
two walked out into the yard with faces partially muffled 
and old blankets about their shoulders. 

"Yes," said the other, "It is just the night for our mission 
and I feel as brave as the devil." 

Jim carried a spade under his arm and swung an unlit 
lantern in the other hand. Sam carried a bottle of chlo- 
roform wrapped in a dirty towel, and a dangerous looking 
knife sheathed in a leather belt about his waist. 

As the two hasten along down the west bank of the bayou, 
conversing in an undertone, and then were silent as though 
each one was busy with his own dark thoughts, until Sam 
broke the silence. 

"Do you know, Jim," said he, "I believe that old nigger 
will crawfish when he begins to reflect on the enormity 
of the crime in which he is to take part." 

"Never, never," said Jim. "I know the nature of a 
nigger too well, to apprehend any danger of that kind. 
When niggers are once enlisted on your side, they are the 
most trustworthy people in the world for a white man to 
take into his confidence. No consideration can induce 
them to betray him; if they were as true to their own race, 



65 



MAUDELLE. 



as they are to the whites, no power could long suppress 
them. Of course this does not apply to all. There are 
negroes who have as much race pride, and as high a sense 
of honor as white men have. Jake is of a low type, and re- 
moved from a wild tribe of Africa by but one generation. 
I believe that the further off the nigger gets from his native 
wild, the more he will become like the white man, and in 
the distant future, will lose his native African identity 
altogether. I say this because I grew up with negroes; 
in fact I was nursed at the breast of a black woman, and 
knew her as my mammie and with all the tender affection 
of a child for its true mother." 

"Then you think Jake will not give us away, do you?" 
said Sam. 

"Give us away, no, my life for it," said Jim. By this 
time the two men had reached the outside fence of the 
Morroe plantation, over which they leaped and walked 
rapidly towards the house. 

"I hope the moon will stay behind that cloud until we 
get across this open field," said Jim. 

At that time the moon was thirty minutes or thereabout 
past meridian, and seemed to be laboring hard to work 
her way through the dense black cloud in order to light up 
the world and warn the unsuspecting inmates at the Mor- 
roe mansion of their approaching danger. 

In twenty minutes more they had reached the orchard 
and were skulking along on the shady side of the hedge 
fence, with blankets drawn closer about their shoulders, 
and their slouch hats pulled down over their faces. Then 
picking their way cautiously and carefully to the garden. 
They crept along the pailings half bent, until they had 
reached the smoke house, in the shadow of which they 
stopped to listen, and to assure themselves that the dogs 
were out of the way, as Jake, the negro, had promised 
they should be. 



66 



MAUDELLE. 



"All seems to be clear and is still as the grave, " said 
Sam. Just then a big thing jumped through the picket 
fence behind Jim. "Damn the thing," he said, as he 
sprang forward. 

"Hush you fool, it's nothing but a damned old cat." 

"Ah, by the gads — a murderer, Sam, is the biggest cow- 
ard on earth, he looks through his blood-stained conscience 
and a mouse becomes as alarming to him as a lion would 
to an innocent man," said Jim. 

"To h — with such talk and on to business," said 
Sam. 

The two crept cautiously along on the dark side of the 
kitchen to the gallery which lead to the private office. 
Here they stopped again. A groan was heard. Jim 
shuddered. Sam punched him in the ribs. "It is a cow 
in the lot, you cursed fool," said he. 

"I know it," said Jim, "but, " 

They stepped upon the gallery and soon gained the 
office window on which Sam gave three little taps. The 
door swung back and Jake pushed his head out. "I told 
you that the nigger would not fail us," said Jim. 

"Dat yo' gemmin?" said Jake. 

"It is us," said Sam. "'How are things?" said he. 

"Things squar', gemmin, de old gal and de young on', 
dead sleep, so dey is. Come in," said Jake. 

The two men stepped into the office, pulled off their 
shoes, laid off their blankets, and lit their lantern. Sam 
took from his pocket a handful of goose quills, which had 
been cut square at each end. These quills he telescoped 
together, which made a tube thirty-five or forty inches 
long. He motioned to Jake to lead the way. Jake, with 
brace and bit in hand, lead them through the archway into 
the main hall, ascended a flight of winding stairs, thence 
along the upper hall a few paces, when Jake stopped, and 
pointed at the door of a room. 



61 



MAUDELLE. 



Jim put his ear to the keyhole in the door. He listened 
a minute, then whispered, "All is well." Jake applied 
the bit to the thin panel of the door through which he soon 
made a hole one-fourth of an inch in diameter. Into this 
hole, Sam ran the quill-tube and poured chloroform into 
it by means of a small funnel. The vapor of the drug was 
gently blown into the room. This was kept up until the 
air in the room was heavily surcharged with the drug and 
a deep distressed breathing was heard. Then came a 
whining and a struggling as if one was being choked. 
Another charge of the chloroform was poured into the 
tube; then there came from the inmates, death-like moans, 
which continued for a few minutes and then died away to 
nothing. 

"They are safe," said Sam. Jake thrust the blade of 
a chisel between the door and casing, and with a wrench, 
the lock gave way and the door swung back to admit the 
assassins. 

There lay Mary and Maudelle, her child, as though dead, 
wholly at the mercy of the villains. 

Sam walked up to the bed and threw the light in their 
faces. "Ah, ha, by gannie; we have got you, you old 
Hessian. You are our meat, and unless we find your 
papers, we will send you and your brat skyward this night," 
said he. 

"Bravity O! bravity O! dat squar' sho," said Jake. 

"Now, boys, get about your work, while I feed this calf 
and her old mammie on chloroform. Go through the house 
from garret to cellar, explore inch by inch as you go. Quick 
and thorough work is the password. Away boys, and report 
to me any cause for alarm," said Sam. 

Jim and Jake began the search for Morroe's will and 
other papers of value. 

Sam kept watch at the bedside, and kept up the admin- 
istration of chloroform to the two victims. 



68 



MAUDELLE. 



Drawers, trunks, boxes, close s and every available 
place likely to conceal anything of value, were burst open 
and searched. Even beds were ripped open and their 
contents emptied on the floor. Carpets were torn up, 
plastering broken off, and the cellar floor dug up from end 
to end. 

But alas, it was a two hours' fruitless search and Jim 
returned to Sam to report his ill luck. 

"Well, what news, Jim?" said Sam. 

"Bad news — not a d — thing can be found," said Jim. 

"The h — you say," said Sam, whose eyes flashed the 
fiery venom of disappointment. "Then to hell with them," 
said he, as he jerked a knife from his belt and with teeth 
gnashing, and a stamp of the foot, he sent the keen blade 
seething into the breast of the child. Jim turned his head 
away as he heard the blade grating against the bone, as he 
thought which made him shrug his shoulders and sigh deeply. 

This showed after all, that there was a tender chord of 
sympathy for the negro which could be touched when 
punishment became inhuman. Jim was a Southern man 
and Sam a Northern man. Sam was as cold blooded and 
unfeeling as a bull dog. Both men were rough and un- 
couth ; but Jim had a warm zone in his nature to which his 
manhood appealed and got a response. Jim had shared 
the milk of a black boy, at the breast of a black woman 
and he was manly enough to be grateful. 

When the knife struck a hard substance, the blade was 
broken off. "D — the luck," said Sam, as he sent the 
bladeless hilt crashing through a window pane. 

Having no weapon at hand with which to dispatch Mary 
he seized a chair, swung it back and brought it down, aim- 
ing at the face of the woman, with all his might. 

Fortunately the legs of the chair struck the head-board 
of the bed — and was crashed to pieces, but which broke 
the force of the blow before it struck her face. 



69 



MAUDELLE. 



The boisterous conduct of Sam had disturbed Aunt 
Millie and Uncle Peter, who slept in the kitchen loft. As 
the two old people came hurrying up the back steps, Sam 
grabbed the child and stuck it under his arm and motioned 
to Jim and Jake to take Mary. Jim seized her by the feet, 
dragged her off the bed and made a mad dash for the door 
but as Jake had extinguished the light, Jim fell backward 
over a chair and lost his hold. 

By this time the old folks were entering the back door 
of the room with light in hand. 

The men made their way down the front stairs, jump- 
ing three or four steps at a time. " That's h — ," said Sam, 
who stood in the private office with the child hanging limp 
under his arm. 

Jake suggested that he ; run upstairs and pretend that 
the disturbance had just awakened him, and that he had 
just come from his cabin in the yard. 

" Good enough," said Sam, "go, and let us hear from you 
tomorrow night at the ravine." 

"I'll sho do dat, gemmins," said he and then hur- 
ried up stairs, while Jim and Sam made off with their 
load. 

We must now leave these scenes at the Morroe mansion 
for a few minutes, and follow the two murderers to the 
forest in haste, to note the disposition they proposed to 
make of the child's body. 

It was now two o'clock in the morning, the moon was 
just going behind the tall forest trees, which cast their long, 
lank shadows that were broken by the dull, dim light of 
the lantern, which Jim had lit as they entered the under- 
brush. 

As the two men ^eft the open field and plunged into the 
black frowning forest, breaking the dry brush beneath 
their feet, the cat owls were disturbed and set up a hideous 
"Hoo, hoo, hoo, are you?" 



70 



MAUDELLE 



Then came the answer from hundreds of feathered 
throats which would have made the hair stand erect on 
the head of one unfamiliar with these birds. Jim led 
the way, swinging the dim lantern in one hand, and carry- 
ing a spade in the other. Sam followed with the child's 
body hanging limp under his arm. Her hands dangled 
among the long hair which hung loose, dragging briers 
and brush along, or was pulled out by the roots, by the 
more obstinate obstructions. Her pale face, her half open 
eyes, and blood-stained night dress, made a picture which 
would have struck horror to the bravest heart. 

Having gone a mile or more into the thickest, and most 
unfrequented part of the forest, the men stopped. Sam 
chucked the body down beside a dead log on which he sat 
chewing away at a cud of cheap tobacco. Jim turned up 
the light in the lantern, set it on the log, and began digging 
a grave on the opposite side of the log. 

"It beats the devil, Jim, we did not get that old nigger 
wench as well as her kid," said Sam. 

"Yes, that is so, since the stipulations were that we 
were to get the papers or both the child and mother dead 
or alive," said Jim. 

"By gannie, we will have that d — n old hen yet unless 
she has got a better pair of wings than her brat," said Sam. 

"Well li tie gal your bed is ready for you," said Jim, 
as he stepped out of the finished hole in the ground. 

Just then a low, smothered moan was heard — seem- 
ing to proceed from the ground at the feet of the men. 
"What in the thunder is that?" said Jim. 

"A d — n hog, I guess," said Sam. 

Another whining, gurgling noise was heard and the child 
raised her hand, it clutched the air, trembled, and fell at 
her side. 

"Look, look," cried Jim, as he drew back in alarm point- 
ing his finger at the child's body. 



7i 



MAUDELLE. 



"Well, I'll be d — n," coolly said Sam, as he rose to his 
feet. "Just wait a minute and see me help the cursed 
little pig to die," He stepped aside and broke a big club 
and came back where the child lay motionless. 

He firmly planted his feet in position, raised the club 
with both hands high in the air above his head, with 
clenched teeth and demoniac scowl upon his face, taking de- 
liberate aim at the child's head. Just then the trembling 
little hand went up again. 

"Papa, papa, O papa," came piteously from the child, 
as the voice died away to a fretting cry, and the hand fell 
again. 

Jim turned his head away and drew up his shoulder as 
though the blow was aimed at him. Standing thus, with 
head turned, expecting every passing second to hear the 
club go crashing into the child's skull. The suspense 
while it lasted, was awful to a man with a human heart. 

Seconds, and then minutes passed, then Jim peeped 
out from under his slouch hat at Sam, who stood in the 
position of striking. "Strike, Sam, strike, and be done 
with it," said Jim, showing his impatience at the terrible 
suspense which had lasted for several minutes. 

"O my God, I can't strike," said Sam, muttering 
through his clenched teeth like one seized with a conges- 
tive chill. 

"Can't strike, why what is the matter?" said Jim, as 
he looked Sam in the face, whose eyes were still fixed, 
staring at the child's head while not a muscle of his face 
moved. "Sam, what ails you, man?" excitedly inquired 
Jim. 

"I am seized by invisible hands which hold me as firm 
as a steel vice. Great God, Jim, I believe I am turning 
to stone — I am colder than death," muttered Sam. 

The words did not appear to come from the mouth, 
but rather from the whole body, for the pale, ashy lips 



12 



MAUDELLE. 



were motionless and firmly pinched together. The face 
had lost its features, and wore a blank, lifeless, pale hue, 
like petrified substance. The hands had turned black 
under the terrible pressure. His hat slowly raised from 
his head and rolled down his back, and fell to the ground 
like a lump of lead. 

There stood the man with uplifted club in the attitude 
of striking the deadly blow, but was firmly grasped in the 
clutches of a powerful apparition. 

The lantern w 7 hich sat on the log beside the child, burn- 
ing brightly, began to sputter, sputter, and hiss, then 
flickered and finally flashed out. 

The moon which seemed to be in a tangle with the 
forest trees, at once slipped in behind a black cloud 
and left nothing visible but Sam and the body of the child 
in a circle of light perhaps fifteen feet in diameter. 

Jim trembling with fear, dropped his spade and took 
to his heels. 

u O Jim, Jim, for God's sake don't leave me, don't 
leave me," piteously cried Sam. Jim halted fifty yards 
off and crouched down behind a big tree trunk, peering 
out at Sam through the inky darkness. 

The entire forest became one universal hush, one 
sepulchral stillness which was wofully painful, that made 
the ears ache and sense recoil. 

This awful oppressive ten or fifteen minutes of quiet 
was at last broken by the thump, thump, of Sam's heart, 
w T hich was plainly heard from Jim's hiding place. The 
heart mauled, mauled, mauled, lower and faster as though 
it would break through the breast. Then came deep 
moans w r hich seemed to proceed from the internal center 
of the earth, and then to slowly work its way to the sur- 
face of the ground, then all was again silent for a minute. 
Next could be heard a distant roaring like the breaking 
of billows on the banks of a remote sea. 



73 



MAUDELLE. 



The noise came nearer, nearer, and more terrific, unti 
the great bulky earth was felt to sway and trembled like 
a great animal in the throes of death. 

Every leaf, every blade of grass, bush, tree and limb 
was thrown into violent commotion. 

The bats and small birds swarmed out of their hiding 
places and cut wild, frantic evolutions in the darkness, 
chirping and screeching as though seized with pains of 
death. Owls dashed pell mell through the trees with eyes 
spitting tire and with hideous yells. 

The bear, the wolf, the wild cat and other forest ani- 
mals, with nostrils distended and hair erect, dashed by 
headlong, kicking the leaves and brush behind them, howl- 
ing and bellowing as they went. 

Great tongues of fire shot up from the troubled earth 
to meet the fiery, jagged points which were hurled down 
from the black sky. Long, keen-looking blades flew thick 
and rapid through the air. One seemed to cut Sam in 
half literally. The parts went asunder and exposed his 
black, murderous heart, which gaped and strained as though 
it would speak. It then began to heave, heave, and then 
vomited black blood and the mangled remains of a child 
in every respect like the child which lay on the ground. 
Then came a frightful wailing of Sam's gaping heart — - 
"My God! my God! O Lord, Lord, have mercy! O, for- 
give, forgive me for the awful crimes! pardon, O God, 
pardon me for the bloody assault upon this innocent child !" 

The cold sweat ran down Jim's face and fell like leaden 
bullets at his feet. He was holding fast to the tree trunk 
and sobbing bitterly. 

Sam, or rather Sam's heart, continued to cry in a voice 
that resounded away out into the deep, distant, blackness 
of the night. The wailing was then caught up by the 
whirling gust and tossed heavenward. At once there came 
a peaceful, calm hush. Sam's body reunited. The 



74 



MAUDELLE. 



lantern which sat on the log began to sputter and hiss, 
hiss, as though blown with a blow pipe. 

At first a spark snapped, snapped, and then hundreds 
like those from a sky rocket, followed by a brilliant light 
which lit up the forest for hundreds of yards around. 

The club dropped from Sam's hands, his arms fell at 
his side and he sank down on his knees, as helpless as a 
baby. His head hung upon his breast, which rose and fell 
violently, agitated by heavy breathing. 

Jim crept from his hiding place and ventured back to 
Sam, who was by this time dragging himself to his feet. 

"O my God, Jim, let us get away from this dreadful 
place," said Sam. 

Jim grabbed the lantern and spade, while Sam tenderly 
took the child's body in his arms, and the two men disap- 
peared in the deep bosom of the Kentucky forest. 



75 



CHAPTER VII. 



THE GHOST OF SIN. 

The pen picture in Chapter Six, which is so highly col- 
ored, and filled with supernatural objects thrown upon 
the innocent right, at the grave of Maudelle in the forest 
explains itself to an intelligent reader. 

These terrible sights seen and felt by the two assassins, 
were only inward tortures of mind and conscience, which 
could have no reality, or an outward expression to the 
vision of an innocent person. 

These men had already received a portion of their blood 
money, and they were greedily thirsting for the other half, 
which depended on successful robbery, or the sacrifice of 
two innocent human lives. 

The contract between the two ruffians, Rev. Noah Adams 
and hell, had been written, signed, and sealed, and all the 
powers of the Universe were dared to attempt to stay the 
execution. 

From the moment these men designed in their hearts 
to commit the crime for which they contracted, they were 
guilty of murder. At the grave in the forest, the con- 
science only gave an outpicturing of the crime; in fact the 
blood-stained conscience could evolve nothing else but a 
true likeness of its own sin. 

The black shadows and leering demons which fill up 
the field of distorted vision, are the self-created offsprings 
of the dark deeds of the heart and hands, which materi- 
alizes in the mind. 

The criminal, would up and flee from his own blood- 
bespattered conscience, rather than stand and fight the 



76 



MAUDELLE. 



frightful ghost of his own black sins. But conscience is 
the inseparable and largest part of self. It is the judge, 
the heaven or hell within, and not without, as many persons 
so much dread. 

The conscience is the tale teller of the human soul, it 
has eyes within and without; it never sleeps nor dozes; 
it does not go off duty until life is wound up. 

Macbeth saw, or thought he saw, a dagger tipped with 
blood suspended in the air, in the room of King Duncan, 
whom he was going to kill. Also he saw the ghost of Banquo 
enter the banquet hall, and take Macbeth's seat at table; 
yet the ghost was visible to no one but Macbeth. 

There are those who believe that judgment and retri- 
bution for sin in all its phases, is suspended until after 
death, or at a final parting of body and soul, which will 
bring them face to face with their God. 

But what a reasonable person will dread most, is that 
eternal vow, while the consequences of all the secret dark 
deeds of life, take frightful shape, and gaze down into the 
innermost soul. 

That ever-present vow, which moves with man on par- 
allel lines, whether he would have it so or not, and carries 
along with him the thoughts and deeds of every hour. 

That inseparable vow which bears one's sins upon its 
naked bosom, so that each actor may translate for him- 
self the evil things recorded against him. 

Mankind may repent with faces in the dust, and feel 
the better for it, but the memory will retain the impres- 
sive recollections through life. 

Or, like a severe burn in the flesh, the wound may heal, 
the pain cease, but the ugly scar will remain as a trophy 
of misfortune. 



77 



CHAPTER VIII. 



THE HEART BROKE. 

We can follow Maudelle no further into the lonely forest. 
The fact is we are truly glad to get away from those dread- 
ful scenes which almost unbalance the mental faculties, 
and render the human mind a worthless blank through 
life. 

We are glad to come back again into the open field, 
where we may breathe a purer, and more genial atmos- 
phere. We will hasten back to the Morroe mansion for 
the purpose of informing the reader what has developed 
during our absence of a few hours. 

When Uncle Peter and Aunt Millie entered Mary's room, 
and found her lying on the floor in an unconscious con- 
dition, the sheets stained with blood and the child gone, 
they were struck with consternation. Jake came running 
up stairs with hat and coat off, puffing, gasping, and feign- 
ing great alarm and surprise. 

Uncle Peter ran down to the quarters which were sit- 
uated two or three hundred yards from the mansion or 
"Big House," as the negroes called it,) and roused the hands. 

The house was soon alive with more than a hundred 
anxious, inquiring men and women, who with clubs, hoes, 
axes, and knives in hand, went through the house and out- 
building searching for, and threatening vengeance upon 
the robbers and murderers. 

What surprised them most, was, that the dogs were locked 
in the barn, and the keys in their proper place. Upon a 
rigid investigation, everyone could give an account of him- 
self, except Jake. He, like most all guilty persons, trying 



7§ 



MAUDELLE. 



to lie out, told two tales on a close cross-examination, which 
would have cost him his life, but for Uncle Peter, whose 
counsel was always taken. 

Jake saw he had no one's sympathy, and could expect 
no quarters from his accusers, in whose stern faces he read 
his death warrant. 

Uncle Peter, and two or three of the older and wiser 
heads, took Jake aside, and gave him his choice, either to 
tell the truth, or be given into the hands of the mob. Upon 
his knees appealing for protection, he made a clean breast 
of the whole affair. 

"Now, Jake, I Vise you to git off de plantation quick 
as you kin," said Uncle Peter. 

Jake made off for the woods, while the old folks returned 
to the house to report their findings. 

"No', child'en," said Peter, "uf Jake done jine robbers 
to do all dis meanness agin Marse George's folks, and 
him done dead, den I tell you de Lode will shoo punish 
Jake quick nuff. 'Vengence mine,' say de Lowd. Jake 
done fall in powefull hands, and we better gin him up to 
God, but uf you go cotch Jake, kill him, you den be mur- 
derers, and is bad is Jake, so God will have that agin you, 
so child'en, let Jake go and God will find him, and shoo 
deal wid him better 'en you kin." 

The advice had its effect, and Jake was allowed to es- 
cape until overtaken by the hand of One Who never loses 
sight of an offender. 

It was not until seven o'clock the next evening that Mary 
had partially recovered from the overdose of chloroform, 
and had begun slowly realizing her condition. 

The first inquiry of course, was for Maudelle, and when 
she was told of the attempted robbery, and the murder of 
the child, she sprang to her feet, and bitterly cried, 
"My God! my God! is it possible?" Then she rapidly 
paced the room a dozen or more times, and then with 



79 



MAUDELLE. 



one and only one, deep, distressed, internal moan, and 
she was silent. 

Her steps became faltering and unsteady, she finally 
stopped, staggered backward, as though stabbed in the 
breast, then the body swayed forward, then with out- 
stretched arms, she dropped into a seat, with eyes wide 
open, seemingly gazing at nothing through the open 
window. 

There was a tremendous muscular tremor which violently 
shook her body, and involuntarily jerked it forward to an 
erect and rigid posture. 

The hands were clenched so tightly together, that the 
nails of the fingers cut deep into the flesh. 

Neither the movement of a muscle, or the pulsation of 
the heart gave any visible sign of life. 

The face slowly assumed a pale, ashy, bloodless pallor. 
The eyes, wide open, had changed from that animated 
lustre of life, to a dull, leaden hue, seemingly as fixed and 
immovable as if cut from stone. The lips were pinched 
together, as though hermetically sealed, while the teeth 
were heard to grate and gnash under the terrible pull of 
the facial muscles. 

A flood of tears might have relieved the heart of that 
congestive and unbearable crisis. 

But the grief was too intense for tears, the fountain of 
the soul had become suddenly engorged, collapsed and 
closed forever. 

The surcharge of agony was too much for the capacity 
of woman's heart, it could r>nt longer sustain the over- 
drawn tension it strained — it broke, and the beautiful 
mother of Maudelle was dead. 



go 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE LOST FOUND AFTER SEVEN YEARS. 

In the year of 1859, or seven years after the tragic end 
ing of the Morroe iamily, a tall, fine looking gentleman 
of perhaps fifty-five years of age, was seen slowly striding 
back and forth in the massive pillared rotunda of the St. 
Charles Hotel in New Orleans. 

It was the day after the usual Spring Mardi Gras. 

The city was full of strangers, many of whom were spend- 
ing a day or two sight-seeing after the festivities of the oc- 
casion. 

"What will you do with yourself to-day, doctor?" said 
a smooth-faced gentleman to the other. 

"I have about decided to take this one hundred and 
eighty pounds of avoirdupois to see the French Market," 
said the doctor. 

"Good place to kill time I guess," said the smooth- 
faced man. 

"Where will you go?" said the doctor. 

"To Lake Ponchar train," said the smooth-faced man. 

The two gentlemen promised to give each other a de- 
tailed account of their day's finding, and thus went their 
way. Circumstances so arranged it, that it was several 
years after that morning, before the oppportunity came 
for the doctor to give an account to the smooth-faced man, 
(Rev. Dr. Brown well), of his observations in the French 
Market. 

His adventures will be told in his own words, as near as 
memory can reproduce them: 



Si 



MAUDELLE. 



"It was perhaps half after nine o'clock in the morning 
when I reached that much-talked-of French Market. 

" Either people have overdrawn the wonders of the place 
or I was not in the proper mood to appreciate what I saw. 

"To me everything seemed to be in a hopeless, bewil- 
dering confusion. I say hopeless confusion > because it 
appeared to me to be impossible for the numerous pro- 
prietors with stalls so closely jammed together, to know 
their goods one from the other. 

"All classes, colors and conditions of people were buy- 
ing, selling, eating, drinking, talking bad English and 
many jabbering worse French 

"However, there was somehow, an inviting neatness 
and open-hearted friendliness pervading the place, which 
is not usually seen in some of our markets in the East. 

" Women with clean, white aprons and neat headdresses, 
from under which beautiful, dark brown eyes peeped out at 
the passers by. 

"If I made the least halt before a stall, those Southern 
beauties were on the alert to sell me something, and when 
I declined to buy, they would pout their pretty mouths 
in modest disappointment, and seize the next victim at 
hand. 

"My attention was particularly attracted to a very richly 
dressed, and remarkably fine looking lady, whose speech 
and address bespoke for her rare culture and refinement. 
She was buying the choicest dainties of the market, paying 
for them from a well-filled purse, and dropping them into 
a large basket which hung on the arm of a shabbily and 
sparingly-dressed girl, whose hair was cut boy fashion. 
Why, I said to myself, is this great disparity in the apparel 
of the two? 

"Why, I said, does that lady keep piling provisions into 
the basket without any apparent thought of the load being 
too heavy for the child. 



82 



MAUDELLE. 



'While^I was busyjwith myjthoughts, trying to solve 
the cause of the relative connection of the two, I was some- 
what embarrassed to find that I was closely watched by 
the girl. 

"I said to myself, I hope that poor, little ragged thing 
has not mistaken my sympathy for admiration. 

"True enough, hers was not a face for one to pass un- 
noticed. The sharp black eyes were arched over by heavy 
semi-circles of well-developed brows, and hemmed about 
with, evenly-adjusted lashes. The nose, the mouth and con- 
tour of the face, balanced w T ith such nice exactness, it was 
a near approach to what the world calls beauty. 

" Undoubtedly, there was some kind of an inexplainable, 
supernatural influence which radiated from that remark- 
able face, and appeared to fasten itself upon my soul, that 
struck me with a panic. There was something away back 
beyond the eyes that wanted to speak out, some tale to be 
told which had waited long for an audience. 

"So earnestly did her eyes follow me, and with such an 
appealing, forlorn, forsaken expression upon her face, 
that I was not only embarrassed, but really alarmed. I 
felt like an escaping criminal under the scrutiny of a de- 
tective, who was ready to grab and manacle me. 

"Summoning all my self-will, I turned on my heel and 
walked rapidly away, determined to break the charm and 
free myself from the meshes of an unwarranted attraction. 

"After all, I said to myself, her little heart may be crushed 
and bleeding under some terrible fate, then it would not 
be strange, nor out of place for the child to long for one 
word of sympathy from anyone whose face shows signs 
of kindness. 

"Who knows but the child is deserving of sympathy, 
and even more material aid ? 

"Who knows, but what there is beneath that dirty face, 
those rags, and perhaps sore abrasions of the lash, good 



S.3 



MAUDELLE. 



blood, noble blood which is warming and feeding that little 
body, and rounding it out into womanhood? Yes, wom- 
anhood, which may some day assert itself, and break up 
through the flinty incrustation of human oppressions, (if 
oppression it is), and come to the front a victorious heroine. 
Such has been the case, and such may be the case again. 

"But why, said I, give myself any concern about the 
little stranger ? I do not know her, I never saw her before 
and may never see her again. 

"True she has a common claim to my human consid- 
eration as one member, (a distant member) of the world's 
great family, and no more. 

"If she is fatherless and motherless, and has fallen into 
cruel hands, I am sorry for it, and that is all of it; so good- 
bye my little one, and for aught I know, forever. 

"I walked away — as I did so, I looked back over my 
shoulder and was pained to observe the poor little creature 
wiping away tears with her sleeves. I walked on; but 
somehow my amusing thoughts did not chase away the 
haunting image of the little ragged spectre. 

"Not only that, but I felt that I was followed by some 
disembodied spirit, or invisible intelligence, which seemed 
to say to me 'Return, return, O return;' I looked back 
over my shoulder with no other expectation than that of 
seeing an apparition at my heels, with outstretched arms 
extended imploringly. 

"Seeing nothing, I felt ashamed of my weakness for 
giving credence to such foolish impressions. 

"I hastened away from the spot where I had stopped, 
supposing everyone in sight was gazing at my foolish 
actions, and had adjudged me to be insane. I turned a 
corner, feeling satisfied that I was once more in posses- 
sion of a man's strength of mind. 

"I thrust aside the influence which was wont to control 
me, and walked defiantly on. Was the spell over? No, 



84 



MAUDELLE. 



I had gone but a half a dozen steps, and the opposition 
to my progress became sensibly more formidable than be- 
fore. I heard, or thought I heard a stern voice in front 
of me cry 'Halt!' It was so real and commandatory, 
that I stopped as readily as though confronted by a thou- 
sand drawn bayonets. 

"Then there came a deathlike whisper which seemed 
to come from my own heart, saying, 'For God's sake, 
and that of a helpless, suffering soul, go back.' 

"I sensibly felt a gentle pressure of a hand upon my arm 
pulling me back; but I saw no hand. 

" Surely, said I, my mind is off balance, I am going in- 
sane. I opened my mouth to give the alarm, but I was 
restrained — I sensibly felt, or thought I felt a cold finger 
press my lips. I drew back and thrust my hand out be- 
fore me, as though to push back the thing with the cold 
finger. I felt nothing — I saw nothing. I weilded my 
cane horizontally about me, and tried my uttermost to cry 
out, but the invisible finger had sealed my lips, and I could 
only speak within myself. 

"Either in a whisper, or a mere thought — Dear Lord, 
said I, what shall I do? 'Go back/ said my own 
heart. I answered aloud, I will go with vou, so help me 
God. 

"Why I said with you, I do not know; unless it was I 
recognized the presence of an invisible something with more 
than ordinary power, which I was willing to obey. 

"I wheeled about to retrace my steps — believe me, I 
have never had such a feeling of absolute relief since the 
hour of my conversion, as I had then. I said then, as I 
do now — 

"To obey, to obey; is heaven's law, and the greatest 
virtue of the human heart. 

"Back I went to the French Market in search of the poor 
little soul, about whom I was now so deeply concerned; 

^5 



MAUDELLE. 



but, why, I could not tell, or even guess. I only knew 
that I was following an almost tangible influence. 

"When I reached the spot where I last saw her, she had 
gone. Strange as it may seem, I made no halt, nor even 
looked right or left; but walked rapidly through the market- 
place, guided as it seemed by the same influence under 
whose control, I acted without any apparent effort of my 
own. I saw and felt my feet and limbs moving onward, 
but I did not realize the least fatigue. I could have gone 
one hundred miles as easy as one step. 

" Although the streets and the market were uncomfort- 
ably crowded, but, somehow, everybody appeared to give 
me the right of way without my asking them, and I pushed 
forward without the least hindrance. 

"Once through the market, and out into the open streets, 
I hurried on, turning sharp corners and going through 
strange streets without hesitating as to the right or wrong 
course, or where I should finally end. 

"Of one thing I was confident, that the child was on 
before me, and that I should overtake her; but what I 
should then do, was not thought of. Five blocks had been 
traversed and I felt myself aglow with expectant excite- 
ment of seeing her every moment. Turning the corner 
of the sixth block — there was the now sacred object of my 
earnest research. 

"She was bent over under the heavy load and half 
trotting to keep up with her proud mistress, who carried 
nothing but her portemonnaie swinging on her jeweled 
wist. 

"I kept at a respectful distance behind them, so as not 
to be observed. 

"The thought then came to me to locate the child, and 
at some other time find out why there was such an affin- 
ity between us. 

"Three blocks more, and the lady ran up the stoop 



S6 



MAUDELLE. 



of a brown stone mansion, which presented the appear- 
ance of ease and comfort. 

"The girl went down a couple of steps to the basement 
door, and while the two stood waiting the answer of the 
bell, I walked by and looked the girl full in the face. 

"I knew this was a mark of low rudeness for a man of 
culture, but I felt excused from a sense of a pure motive. 
I was now the aggressor. I was over-anxious that the dis- 
tressed little soul might have some comfort in the thought 
that her interest for me was not altogether without its re- 
ciprocation. 

"When she saw me, there was a spasmodic tremor in 
her whole body. Her quivering lips parted, her brows 
contracted, her eyes filled, and she would have fallen to 
the ground had she not so quickly balanced herself against 
the basement wall. 

"The lady stood with her back toward me, which gave 
me a chance to note the number and location of the house 
without exciting suspicion. 

"As I passed on, the poor little thing followed me with 
her longing eyes suffused with tears which seemed to say, 
'Don't leave me.' c Cheer up, little one/ said I to myself; 
'help is nigh.' 

"Yet I had no idea what I meant, or what I was going to 
try to do. All I knew was, from a sensible impression, 
that she needed help, and that God had somehow assigned 
me to the work, and I had now determined to stake my 
life on the effort. 

"It was twelve o'clock when I got back to the hotel. 
I went to my room and spent several hours trying to de- 
vise a plan to communicate with the girl. At first, I thought 
I would buy a stock of books and visit the house as an 
agent; but said I, the reception of a book agent is not al- 
ways cordial, and I may not see her at all, and I certainly 
could not go a second time without being suspicioned. 



87 



MAUDELLE. 



"After suggesting a great many impracticable plans 
and as many times discarding them, I finally dismissed 
the subject, or at least tried to do so. 

"Just then the proper and feasible plan flashed across 
my mind. I will do it, said I. I will go early tomorrow 
morning and take my stand within a block of the house 
and pretend to be busy reading the morning paper, and 
watch my chance of seeing her come out to sweep, or scrub, 
or run to the market. 

"I knew very well, from her neglected, careworn and 
distressed appearance, that she was the drudge, the bur- 
den bearer, the pack horse for the family, and would be 
up and at it early. 

"Sure enough, when I got in sight of the house next 
morning, I saw the little bunch of rags down on its knees 
busy scrubbing the stone steps. I walked boldly toward 
the house, fired up with indignation and thirsting for war 
upon the inmates, whom I had pictured as the most cruel 
and heartless monsters that lived. I noticed that the 
windows of the house were still closed, which assured me 
the family were not up. 

"By the time I had reached the house, my fighting temper 
had cooled, and was closely followed by a sensible rebuke 
of conscience, that fighting was not part of my mission. 
I suppressed the spirit of combativeness and felt the stronger 
for it. 

" 'Good morning, my little daughter,' said I, in a tone 
of voice as tender and affectionate and fatherly as I could, 
that she might not take fright and run from me. 

"She wheeled about on her knees and faced me; then 
quickly tucked her short gown about her bare feet and 
ankles, and slyly drew her sleeves over her remarkably 
round, plump arms, bespeaking for her a mark of real, 
genuine modesty, despite her woful condition. When 
her eyes met mine, there flashed from them a vivid expression 



88 



MAUDELLE. 



of unspeakable joy, which never was my pleasure to 
see before nor since. It was an expression too full of 
intense meaning for human interpretation — it was that 
extreme and last emotional sounding of the soul's greatest 
depth, either of joy or sorrow, which so often break the 
heart. But the current of joy flooded, and then ebbed 
so quickly, that the little heart was unable to sustain the 
surcharge without an eruption. The countenance changed, 
and plainly told me of the inward anguish of her soul. 

" Tears flowed down her cheeks. They were not tears 
of sorrow, not tears of joy; neither were they the effects 
of pain, but they were tears of earnest appeal, tears of hope, 
tears which were the distillation of seven years of oppres- 
sion, which now plead with me for mercy. 

"I felt all that she felt; but have never yet found words 
to describe my feeling, and perhaps never will. 

"I was moved to sympathy too deep for utterance, and 
too full for reciprocal tears, but my face bespoke my feel- 
ing plainer than words. When the tempest in our two 
bosoms had partially subsided, she tried to speak, but her 
throat filled and the effort was lost. 

" 'My dear little girl, do you know me?' said I. 

" 'I do, sir/ said she. 

" 'Who am I?' said L 

" 'Doctor Gillispie,' said she. 

" 'Yes, Gillispie is my name, but where did you become 
acquainted with me?' said L 

" 'At the death-bed of my father,' was the reply. 

"She covered her eyes with her hands and was silent, 
until I broke the stillness with another question. 'Who 
was your father, my dear child?' 

" 'Senator George Monro e, sir,' said she. 

" 'Senator George Monroe, and are you Maudelle, his 
daughter?' I earnestly inquired. 

" 'I am, sir,' was the ready reply. 



^9 



MAUDELLE. 



"Nothing could have astonished me more, for we who 
knew of the exciting circumstance at the time of Morroe's 
death, supposed the child to be dead and secreted in some 
lone, out-of-the-way grave, seven years before. It was 
too much like a dream. I was inclined to discredit the 
child's statement as truth. Indeed I opened my mouth 
to say as much, but somehow, unexpectedly, I said, 'My 
dear child what can I do for you ?' 

" 'Please, sir, take me away from these cruel people,' 
was her choked reply. 

" 'Take you away — the Lord being my helper. I will 
take you away, and the time will not be long when I will 
do it.' 

"With this promise I felt the strength of ability rise up 
within me, capable of beating back ten thousand opposers, 
should they come. Reader, try it if you will; form within 
you a strong resolution to do good, and all heaven will 
come to your assistance, you will feel it as sensibly as though 
you saw ten thousand angels encamped about you. 

"I was to undertake a mission of mercy, and I felt im- 
pressed with a firm belief that God was using me. 

"She tried again and again to thank me through her 
tears, until I forbade any further effort — the trial was 
enough. 

"I saw the dead father's features in the living face of 
his daughter, and I saw gratitude depicted on her face, 
as I had seen it in his, on the night of his death, when he, 
too, tried to thank me for the part I had taken in approv- 
ing his marriage to Maudelle's mother. 'My dear Maud- 
elle, we can not stand here, we will attract attention, and 
it might be the means of defeating any plans I may have 
to get you away from here.' I saw that she expected me 
to take her with me at once, and when I told her that she 
would have to wait until I matured plans, she showed 
signs of sad disappointment. 



90 



MAUDELLE. 



" 'Shall I ever see you again ?' said she, in a voice trem- 
ulous with fear that the present interview would be the 
last. 

" 'You shall certainly see me again, not longer than 
to-night. I will write you a letter in which I will fully 
explain how, and when you are to act/ said I. 'I will 
pass along here to-night at eight o'clock, and if I see you 
at the basement door, I will drop the letter and pass on; 
should I not see you, I will know that you have been de- 
tained — in that event, I will pass again tomorrow night; 
in fact, I will pass here every successive night until I do 
see you,' said I. 

" 'But, doctor, I can't read writing very well,' said she. 
'Since I have not been allowed to read or write all these 
seven years, I have forgotten a great deal my father taught 
me.' 

" 'Can you read printing?' said I. 

" 'O yes, sir,' she replied. 

" 'Then I will have the letter printed,' I said. 

"With a positive assurance that I would keep my promise 
I bade her good-bye. 

"Somehow I felt satisfied in the thought that God had 
thus far guided me, and would further the mission of mercy. 

"If it is true — as some say it is, that the spirits of the 
dead, in some way exert an influence over the living, I 
certainly must have been under the control of the spirits 
of the child's parents, from the time I saw her in the 
market, until we met. 

"My first thought was, after parting with the child, 
to find some good trustworthy family in whom I could 
confide, and who would be willing to execute such of 
my plans as it would be unsafe for me to undertake 
alone. 

"The entire forenoon was spent in an indirect way, 
looking for such a family or friend. With nothing accom- 



91 



MAUDELLE. 

plished, I went to my hotel for dinner. My feelings of 
disappointment must have been plainly imprinted upon 
my face, for I saw the head waiter eyeing me as I sat at 
the table balancing my knife upon the end of my fork 
while waiting for my order to be filled. 

"The thought flashed through my mind that he was 
the man to whom I should unbosom my trouble. 

"I gave him a Masonic sign of distress, he responded, 
and worked his way cautiously among the guests to me. 

"I knew it would be unwise to engage him in any lengthy 
interview under the gaze of so many suspicious spectators; 
so I merely made an engagement to meet him at his house 
after the dinner hour. 

"Promptly at three o'clock and thirty minutes, I rang 
the bell at a neat little cottage, into which I was admitted 
by my friend Sorie's wife, a lady of culture and pleasant 
address. Mr. Vaurtrine Sorie was an extraction of an old 
well-known French family, and like Maudelle — was tinged 
with negro blood. 

"He met me warmly and placed himself at my disposal. 
I requested him to have his wife present, that she, too, 
might be let into the secret. I told him that in cases like 
the one in hand, which required great stratagem, I had 
more faith in the sagacity of woman, than I had in the 
physical strength of man. 

" c When I explained to them the condition of the child, 
who she was, and what I proposed to do for her, they heart- 
ily joined me in my project. 

"In my letter, I was to direct the child to their house, 
where she would be taken charge of by Mrs. Sorie, and 
dressed in a complete suit of boy's clothes. I put suf- 
ficient means in Mrs. Sorie's hands, to purchase not only 
the needed supply of clothes, but also travelling satchel, 
umbrella, watch and chain, on which I had fixed the name 
of George M. Gillispie, Boston^ Mass.^ j 



92 



MAUDELLE. 



"My friends were to take the child (now transformed 
into a boy), to the depot at twelve o'clock at night and 
meet the arriving train from the East. They were then to 
get her among the passengers, and then in the hurry and 
bustle of the crow T d, see that she took the omnibus for the 
St. Charles Hotel. 

"With these arrangements perfected, I returned to the 
hotel to write the letter to Maudelle, with full instructions 
for her part of the work. 

"It was now after six o'clock in the evening, I dashed 
off the letter, giving a careful and minute description of 
the Sorie cottage, the kind of light that would be in the 
window and the number of taps she must give on the door, 
what street she was to go through, and how to act, and what 
to say if stopped by police. 

"With everything seemingly satisfactorily finished, I 
leaned back in my chair to meditate and wait for eight 
o'clock, which was still an hour and twenty off. 

"I must have dozed off and dreamed that I promised 
to have the letter to Maudelle printed, for I sprang to my 
feet before I realized what I was about. I seized my hat 
and dashed out upon the street without so much as a frag- 
ment of a thought, or aim or purpose of what to do, or 
where to go for information. 

"What job house in New Orleans could I trust with 
such an important and dangerous document? Especially 
dangerous in that year of 1859. I walked on. Go I must, 
said I, somewhere, anywhere; and perhaps nowhere at last. 

"Just then the clock in the city hall struck seven — seven 
cruel strokes, which added new terrors to my already panic- 
stricken heart, as it reminded me of the beginning and 
wasting away of the last sixty minutes which I had to fill 
my promise with the poor little soul whom I knew would 
shiver in the cold March wind of that night, and anxiously 
await my coming. 



93 



MAUDELLE. 



"I hurried out St. Charles St. on Canal, and mingled 
with the motley crowd of laborers who were bent home- 
ward for their night's rest. 

"I envied the calm, placid faces that passed me and not 
even noticing me, while they were chatting merrily with 
their comrades. I looked eagerly for a face expressive 
of sympathy for me, in my distress, and really half expected 
some word of kindness, since I was enlisted in a worthy 
service. But no one spoke to me, or even so much as shared 
the least part of my misery by a kind look. 

"I opened my mouth several times to ask some one 
what I should do, and was restrained only by trying hard 
to keep the one thought uppermost in my mind, that God 
would not leave me to solve the difficulty alone. 

"After retracing my steps several times on Canal Street, 
I inquired of a little ragged boy who was trying to sell 
me a paper, if he knew where I could find a job print- 
ing office. He squatted, and pointed to an alley which 
intersected Canal Street, and was about to be off to sell 
another paper. I seized him by the arm — put a silver 
quarter in his hand. 'Go with me to the place,' said I. 
It was a case of the drowning man and the proverbial 
straw. 

"The boy skipped along before me up the alley, and 
in a few minutes we came to a narrow door-w T ay over which 
a sign swung with the w T ords "Office du Soleil," meaning 
in English the office of the sun. 

"I relieved the boy and entered. The place was a little 
8 x 10 room, poorly furnished and badly lighted. The 
proprietor was a young Creole of perhaps twenty-five years 
of age, whose care-worn brow gave evidence of the hard 
and steady race for bread from boyhood up. 

"I closely scanned every line and feature of the face, 
for signs of trustworthiness; but I saw little to encourage 
me. Like the doctor administering the last known remedy 



94 



MAUDELLE. 



to a hopeless patient, it was my last hope, and I had de- 
cided to take the risk at any cost. 

" 'Can I get a small job of printing done, sir?' said I, 
and at the same time kept turning the silver dollars in my 
pocket as an incentive to a favorable answer. 

" 'My typesetter has gone home and I am unable to 
accommodate you, sir/ said the man. 

"I felt my heart sinking, my knees gave way, and I sat 
down without being invited, or I should have exposed my 
distress. 

"With all my efforts to be composed, pleasant and joc- 
ular, a profusion of perspiration gushed out upon my face 
and I felt the last fibre of my courage strained to its utmost 
tension under the disappointment. 

"I had one more — and only one more proposition on 
which to hang my last thread of hope. 

"I told him I had learned to set type while at school, 
and that I would be his typesetter if he would work the 
machine. I looked him hard in the face with an expression 
— if it was in keeping with my feeling — that I must not be 
disappointed. He smiled his unbelief of my ability to set 
type, and answered all right, I suppose expecting to see 
me back out. 

"I was so overjoyed at my good fortune, that I did not 
ask what he charged; but put a twenty-dollar gold piece 
in his hand and threw off my coat for the work. 

"He looked at me inquiringly, and began to feel for 
change, and asked me what kind of work, and the number 
of copies I wanted. ' But one copy and no change back, 
only let us get this work through before eight o'clock/ said I. 

"I was very nervous and excited; but I threw the type 
together in haste. 

" 'Here you are, sir/ said I, as I finished. 

"The man adjusted the case and with one revolution 
of a little hand press, he struck off the copy as the town 



95 



MAUDELLE. 



clock hammered eight times. I clenched my teeth to pre- 
vent an outcry of painful regret. I had yet to take down 
the form, in order to prevent the printer from making 
another copy and thus get my secret. I poured out my 
soul to God in silent prayer, that He would in some way 
hold the child to her place of waiting, until I could reach 
her. Fifteen minutes past eight, I left the printing office 
and hastened out on Canal Stieet— beckoned a hackman — 
put five dollars in his hand, and told him to take me to the 
place I designated, in the shortest possible time. He laid 
the lash to the horses and they bounded away in a sweep- 
ing gallop. 

"At twenty-five minutes past eight, the driver reigned 
up his panting team. 'Here you are, sir/ said he. 

"I leaped out, waved him a good night with my hand 
and disappeared from him around the corner of the block 
and a half, which brought me to the hiding place of Maud- 
elle. As I approached the spot, I saw the poor, little ragged 
figure, crouched down in the shadow of the stone steps, 
faithfully waiting, and confidently hoping for the verifi- 
cation of my promise. 

"I was impatient with the slow developments of my 
plans. I wanted to run to the child and take her in my 
arms and flee to a place of safety. I crushed down the 
desire to hasten matters in that way, and dropped the letter 
as I had agreed, and looked back over my shoulder to see 
that she got it. 

"She sprang out and seized it with the avidity of a hungry 
spider pouncing upon an entangled fly. 

"I walked around the block and back to my hotel. I 
left orders at the office of the hotel, as to how they were 
to care for my son, whom I said would arrive on the mid- 
night train. I complained of being weary, and retired, 
or at least led the clerk so to believe. In my letter to Maud- 
elle, I had instructed her to bandage her right hand, and 



96 



MAUDELLE. 



feign a wound as an excuse for not writing her name on 
the hotel register. She was to take the name of George 
M. Gillispie, Boston, Mass., and make anxious inquiry 
for her father — take the room assigned her and see me next 
morning. 

"It was now half past ten o'clock, and I knew by that 
time Maudelle had read her letter and was all aglow with 
excitement for making a break for freedom. 

"She had to wait till the family retired, and then take 
her chance to escape. I knew it was a very hazardous 
undertaking for a girl of fourteen years of age, and with 
her limited experience. Yet, I had implicit confidence in 
her moral courage to undertake it, and her sagacity to ac- 
complish her part of the work to the letter, with a clear 
road before her. 

"Notwithstanding the discipline of her cruel task masters 
which was of the most stern and unrelenting kind, it had 
only the effect of bending, but not breaking her positive 
will. 

"She very well knew that her birth and heritage en- 
titled her to better treatment, and that nothing but intrigue 
and foul dealing had reduced her to a helpless condition. 

"Now hope for something better appeared to be so near, 
she was anxious to take either extreme of the choice, be- 
tween life, liberty or death. 

"My room at the hotel looked out on St. Charles Street, 
from where I could see the passengers arrive and depart. 

"It was yet more than an hour before train time, and 
before I would know the outcome of our undertaking. I 
tried to pass the time by reading, but the taste for reading 
had left me. I could neither lie, sit nor stand at ease. 
My imagination created all sorts of distressing scenes of 
attack upon Maudelle. I saw her overtaken, captured 
and beaten by police as they dragged her back to her owners, 
bruised and bleeding. 



97 



MAUDELLE. 



"I could hardly restrain myself. I wanted to run to 
the route which I had directed her to take, and help her 
beat back her captors, for I was sure I heard her screaming 
for help. I abused myself for not going at first and stand- 
ing guard on the street she was to pass. Sure enough 
I heard a scream — it was undoubtedly Maudelle. I ran 
to the window, threw up the sash — listened eagerly. I 
heard it again, this time more plainly than before, but it 
was not the child, it was a pedler crying late hot lunches 
for sale. 

"I sat down and sought solace in the Bible. I read 
those wonderful passages of the deliverance of Paul, of 
Silas, of Peter and the Jailer. Then I gave myself up ir; 
prayer to that God, Who never knew defeat. 

" Midnight came at last, and I took my station at the 
window, to hope and wait. 

" Twenty-five minutes more and I heard the feet of 
horses, and the jumping of wheels upon the street. An- 
other minute — the four horses and stately bus swung around 
the corner of Canal and St. Charles Streets — dashed down 
to the hotel and backed up to the door of the rotunda. 

"The porter threw the bus door open and the passengers 
began slowly leaving the bus, one by one. 

"No pen or tongue, can ever describe my anxiety and 
suspense during those few minutes it took the passengers 
to clear the bus, which seemed to me like decades. 

"Eighteen to twenty had already gotten out. I felt my 
heart sinking in despair, when so many had left the bus and 
the child was not among them. 

"Lord God, said I, is it possible that she is not there? 
Am I mocked by a failure? Have my plans miscarried? 
O ! that I had worked on another line. 

"Just then I saw the child descending from the bus. 
Yes, that is Maudelle, said I. I knew the hat, the suit, 
the satchel, the umbrella, and the bandaged hand. 



9 8 



MAUDELLE. 



"The sudden transition from anxiety and apparent dis- 
appointment to a realization of my hopes was almost too 
much for me. I could no longer contain myself under the 
baptism of joy. 

"I sank to my knees — blind with tears of thanks- 
giving to God, that he had so richly honored me with the 
rare and sacred trust of relieving a human soul of its 
suffering. 

"Now with the burden thrown off — the mind once more 
at ease, and Maudelle safe so far, I retired and enjoyed 
a refreshing sleep. Next morning I was up early and at 
the office. On looking over the registration of the late 
arrivals, I saw the name of George M. Gillispie, Boston, 
Mass., room No. 49. I went to room No. 49 and tapped 
on the door. 'George,' said I. 'Sir?' was the ready re- 
sponse of that voice which for twenty-four hours had hung 
upon my anxious mind like a gift from heaven. 

" 'Get up son,' said I, 'and dress.' 

" 'I am already dressed sir,' said she. The fact is she 
had sat up all night — the hope of freedom had driven sleep 
off. The door opened on a fine looking substitute for a 
boy, who was trying to suppress a blush for the transforma- 
tion from female to male attire. 

"I took the child to my arms. 'You are no longer Maud- 
elle Morroe, but George M. Gillispie, until we are safe 
in Boston,' said I. 

"Her handsome black eyes overran with tears of grat- 
itude as she looked in my face and said, 'Since I lost 
my father and my home, I have had no chance to learn 
anything but hard work, so I don't know much; but I will 
try very hard to be a good girl all my life, for your kindness 
to me.' 

"I told her that we had no living children, and that I 
knew Mrs. Gillispie would like her if she would be a good 
girl. 



99 



MAUDELLE. 



"We sat down and I gave her a minute description of 
Boston, its public buildings, parks and names of streets, 
as well as our home and names of friends and city officers. 

"I gave her this information so that if any one should 
ask her about Boston, she would be enabled to answer 
correctly and thereby make the disguise more complete. 

"We spent most of the day in sight-seeing about the city, 
expecting to take the train for the East at eight o'clock 
that night. The poor, little silly goose was ready to faint 
if any one dared to look at her; then to make matters worse 
a circular came out in the afternoon, describing the runaway, 
and offering a thousand dollars for her capture and de- 
livery. She suggested and urged that we should go off 
the street and hide away until night. 'No, never,' said I. 
'Let us take just as much interest in the excitement as 
anyone. Again the more bold and daring we are, the less 
we will be suspected. Moreover, this circular does not 
describe you as you are; it describes what you were 
yesterday.' 

"She agreed, but 1" saw it was only to please me — it was 
evident that another thought disturbed her, which needed 
a better explanation than I had given. 

"Finally, she said in a voice full of suspicion, 'Doctor, 
you have a good chance to make a thousand dollars by 
giving me up.' 

"I saw the point; she feared a thousand dollars was too 
great a temptation for me to resist for her sake. I put 
my hand on her head. 'Why my dear George,' said I, 
'I would not take all the money in New Orleans for my 
son. God has blessed me with more than three hundred 
thousand dollars; now do you suppose I would dare in- 
sult Him by selling the soul He has commissioned me to 
rescue from slavery and degradation? Why I believe 
God would strike me down in my tracks, should I be so 
unworthy of His trust.' 



IOO 



MAUDELLE. 



"She seized and kissed my hand as a token of implicit 
faith in my promise. 

"On our way back to the hotel for tea, I made it conven- 
ient to go by way of the city ticket office, in order to secure 
our tickets and avoid the jam at the depot at train time. 

"It was not yet seven o'clock, and we still had more than 
an hour on our hands. I stepped into the ticket office, 
supposed Maudelle was close behind me; but she, child-like, 
remained on the sidewalk attracted by a rough crowd of 
noisy men and boys. 

"Amid the hurrah and tumult of the mob, Maudelle 
heard her own name loudly called, just as they reached the 
place where she stood. 

"The discipline of seven years of servitude, had taught 
her the virtue of prompt answering when called, and twenty- 
four hours of freedom was too short a time to become un- 
schooled in the habits of seven years of slavery. 

"Without thought of the danger of being apprehended, 
she cried out, 'Here I am, sir.' The next moment it flashed 
through her mind that she had betrayed herself, and what 
would be the inevitable consequence? It was too late to 
recall the mistake, for the crowd had plainly heard the 
answer, had halted, and were looking in every direction for 
the one who had spoken. 

"She stood for a minute with hands raised as though to 
push back the mob, exclaiming, 'O, go away, go away 
from me,' while upon her face was a woful expression of 
consternation. 

"The small boy, like the small dog, was first to discover, 
and first to cry out, 'Look, people look/ with finger pointed 
at Maudelle. T golly, I'll bet that is the gal,' said the boys. 

"She wheeled about and ran into the ticket office scream- 
ing for help, like one stung by hissing flames of fire. 

" 'Catch her, catch her,' yelled a hundred or more voices 
of men and boys, wild with excitement as they pushed and 



IOI 



MAUDELLE. 



jammed one another, all trying to get into the door of the 
ticket office at the same time. 

"The agent shouted to the mob to go out; but his voice 
was drowned by the uproar. 

"Dr. Gillispie was not cognizant of Maudelle's mistake, 
and the cause of the excitement, therefore he concluded to 
be reticent for fear of making matters worse. 

"Notwithstanding the ticket agent threatened to shoot, 
and called loudly for police, nothing for a minute deterred 
the slave catchers, who were drunk with the hope of a thou- 
sand dollars, and pushed on in defiance of all threats. 

"Maudelle ran through the front ticket office and thence 
into what appeared to be a cashier's private room. This 
officer sprang to his feet and met the mob with a drawn 
pistol, demanding their business. Some one cried "a run- 
away," others clamored "go in boys, go in," but it was 
such a conglomeration of oaths and wrangle that no one 
could intelligently understand the cause of the excitement. 

" 'Stand back, stand back; I will shoot the first man who 
enters,' said the cashier. 

"The mob halted, swayed back for a minute, as they 
looked into the muzzle of the pistol, while those in the rear 
were still yelling, 'Go in, by G — and at the same time 
they gave a tremendous surge forward, and jammed those 
in front of the door into the room. The cashier pulled 
the trigger, but fortunately the weapon missed fire — it 
went up again in the face of the mob; but he was seized, 
unarmed and pushed aside. Then on came the mob in 
hot haste. Desk, chairs and boxes were overturned, 
and every place large enough to conceal a cat was searched. 

"A small plunder room adjoining the cashier's office 
shared the same fate, but neither disclosed the runaway. 

"Next, the yard and outhouses were ramsacked for five 
or ten minutes, then a boisterous cheer went up and told 
the story of their finding. 



102 



MAUDELLE. 



"Dr. Gillispie, who had followed the mob to the door, 
and was on tiptoe trying so see over their heads, was heard 
to exclaim, 1 Merciful God, protect that poor, little, help- 
less orphan. 5 

"The child was dragged out of the box, screaming for 
help. It was prostrated on the ground, and its clothes 
madly torn off. Then came a groan and a loud laugh from 
the mob, as the child got up and went off pulling on the 
scanty remains of its garments. 

"It was not Maudelle, as the mob at first had thought, 
it was an Italian boy who had come into the back yard to 
pick up old rags, papers, etc., and when the unexpected 
mob burst into the yard, the boy took shelter in a box of 
waste paper as a place of safety. 

"The mob cursed its disappointment, and rushed out of 
yard into the alley, searching every place it was possible 
for them to enter. 

"By this time it w T as getting dark in the alleys, w T hich nec- 
essarily made pursuit slow. 

"Some one cried 'Go get old Ben and his dogs.' In 
a half hour or more, ten or fifteen blood hounds were on 
the ground, and with a great deal of trouble, of sniffing 
and switching about, took the trail. 

"They trailed along down the alley, opening their wide, 
flat mouths, crying when on the right track. They ran 
down the alley for a block or so and then retraced their 
steps. Carefully feeling along and poking their heads into 
every opening, box and ash barrel. The lead dog came to 
an open court wilich communicated with the street, she 
raised her head, sniffed the air a second, and then bawled 
out as she dashed through the court, followed by the long 
train of hounds, yelling as they went. 

"On the next street they lost* the trail again for ten or 
fifteen minutes, and just as the mob began to despair of 
further pursuit the lead dog cried out and bounded away 

1C 3 



MAUDELLE. 



on a warm trail, followed by her associates with their up- 
roar. 

"By this time Maudelle was a mile off, running through 
back streets and alleys, but she could hear the howling 
mob hurrying and encouraging the dogs. 

"Exhausted and shuddering with fear, she crept into a 
dark court between two old wooden, buildings, and leaned 
her head against the cold, damp wall, gasping for breath. 
4 O my Lord, what shall I do ? I am chased by dogs and 
unmerciful slave hunters. I wish a thousand times I had 
never taken the advice of that man Gillispie. I might 
just as well have borne my punishment as to be torn to 
pieces by blood hounds. Shall I go back to that heartless, 
cruel woman, and bend my back to the lash all my life? 
Must I so soon give up all I had hoped for, and go back to 
the condition of a hated dog?' 

"She stood erect with upturned face as though expecting 
an answer from the upper darkness, and then with eyes 
blazing with a firm resolution, she cried out in a voice full 
of firmness, ' Never, never, no never; so help me God. 
These twenty-four hours of freedom are worth all my life. 
I have made a step for freedom — I will stand my ground 
and die in my tracks a free girl/ 

"She sat down on the ground and folded her arms across 
her breast, closed her eves, and waited for the inevitable 
fate. 

"The dogs could be heard yelling, and the boys and men 
clamoring but a few blocks away. She knew that the 
dogs had her unbroken track and would be upon her in 
a few minutes. She hugged her body closer together and 
sighed deeply. Perhaps her imagination drew a tragic 
picture of what appeared to be her speedy end. She seemed 
to feel the sharp fangs of the dogs tearing the arteries, 
veins and flesh of her body, and crushing the bones in their 
strong jaws. She saw herself torn into shreds and the 

I "4 



MAUDELLE. 



bloody fragments scattered about the streets, and the dogs 
shaking the lifeless parts, while mad men and boys, profaned 
and gloated over the remains. 

"On came the blood-thirsty dogs, nearer, nearer, nearer. 
Her head grew dizzy from the uproar. She felt herself 
reel over toward the ground and would have fallen 
in a swoon, had not just then, a small bird, frightened 
from its perch, flew into the court chirping, dipped down 
and flapped its little wings about her head, and sailed out 
the opposite end of the court crying as though in great 
distress. 

"Maudelle, either encouraged or alarmed by the antics 
of the bird, awoke from the stupor, sprang to her feet, 
made her way to the rear end of the court, climbed a high 
fence and dropped into the alley, just as the dogs came into 
the other end of the court, filling the air with their hideous 
yells. 

"They dashed down to the fence which Maudelle had 
climbed, and tried again and again to clear it by tremen- 
dous leaping in the air. Failing to leap the fence, and 
maddened by the disappointment, they bounded out of the 
court, redoubling their efforts to round the block, and gain 
the alley and seize their prey. 

'"'Maudelle would have met them but for her presence of 
mind, to step quickly into a doorway until they ran past. 

"As soon as the last dog had cleared the door, she sprang 
out and ran toward the river, with all possible haste, which 
was about two blocks off. 

"As soon as the dogs reached the spot where she got over 
the fence they sniffed about a minute, struck the trail again 
and doubled back up the alley. 

"Now the race to the river became one of painful excite- 
ment. The poor girl fleeing to save her life by the narrow 
chance of a plunge in the Mississippi, and the blood-hounds 
gone crazy with their true instinct to catch and kill, had 



MAUDELLE. 



caught sight of their victim, and were crying and leap- 
ing over the ground with gaping mouths, like maddened 
demons. 

"The lead hound overtook the poor little panting fugitive 
within fifteen feet of the river, she sprang forward with 
fangs glittering in the gas light, which she drove into the 
back of the child's neck. Maudelle screamed, threw back 
her arms and left her coat with the dog. 

"The aim of the dog had not been what she expected. 
Her teeth had been driven into the collar of Maudelle's 
coat, which the dog stripped from her shoulders, produc- 
ing only an abrasion on the girl's neck. The pack of dogs 
coming up tore the coat into shreds in an instant; but on 
discovering their mistake, were intensely furious, and they 
lunged forward again for blood. 

"Just as the lead dog squatted to spring upon Maudelle 
again, the child leaped into the air with a wild scream of 
utter despair, which rang out sharp and shrill upon the 
rippling bosom of the Mississippi. 

"'Dear God, be merciful unto my soul,' she cried, while 
into the river she plunged, and the chase was over. 

"The dogs disappointed again, looked wistfully down at 
the agitated water, howled and bayed, until the mob came 
up. 

"'By Jingo, boys,' said Ben Bosley, 'she has gone to h— 
by water, and we can't afford to follow her there to-night.' 

" 'Why in the h — didn't she take the trip after we had 
got the thousand dollars reward?' said another. 

"After fifteen or twenty minutes of slang and profanity, 
the disappointed rabble departed for their homes." 



106 



CHAPTER X. 



THE PURCHASE, DEAD OR ALIVE. 

It is hardly necessary to say that Doctor Gillispie spent 
that woful night in bitter tears of disappointment and sad 
regret. He censured himself a thousand times for being 
responsible for bringing upon Maudelle such a sad and 
unfortunate end. He paced his room through the long 
weary night, which seemed to be lengthened by many hours. 
The city clock struck five and reminded him the night was 
about gone at last, to give its place to day, which would 
bring with it still sadder intelligence, which would wound 
the heart of that great and good man afresh. 

Anxious to get the news, at the earliest cry of the news- 
boy, which told the tale of Maudelle's fate. Until then 
he was ignorant of her whereabouts. He had thought 
that the worst that would come to her, would be a return 
to her owners, which made her chance for freedom not al- 
together hopeless. 

But now that she was dead, all hope fled on speedy wings. 
He went to his room, threw himself on the bed and gave 
vent to his distressed soul. 

The tears of a sorrow- stricken woman can move the 
stoutest heart to sympathy; but when a strong man breaks 
down in tears, it seems that sorrow and pain of mind have 
reached their extreme limits, and the man is separated 
from death by only a weak thread. 

"O dear Lord," said he, "why didst Thou impress me 
to attempt to free a soul and then mock me with this terrible 
disappointment? What have I done that Thou hast made 
me accessory to the horrible death of an innocent chil ? 



107 



MAUDELLE. 



"Was slavery so much worse than death, that Thou hast 
ended the torture by making me the cruel agent? 

" O Father, show me Thy wisdom by permitting the pre- 
mature death of one so innocent and promising. Did not 
that motherless child deserve to live and enjoy some of the 
comforts of life, as a partial requital for the seven years 
of toil and suffering? 

"O Father of mercy, give me some token, some slender 
thread of hope that Maudelle still lives — saved by some 
miraculous intervention by Thy all-powerful arm." Then 
remaining a long time in silence, then as though he had 
matured a resolution, he rose to his feet, bathed his face, 
dressed his hair and left the room. 

He was next seen on Canal Street where he entered a hack 
and drove off. In a half hour the hack stopped at the door 
of Major Shafendore. Doctor Gillispie stepped out — 
" Await here, driver, until I return," said he. 

He ascended the steps and pulled the silver-knobbed 
door bell. He was admitted by rather a heavy set old 
gentleman of perhaps sixty years of age, who carried a 
cane in one hand and a large bundle of notes or bills in the 
other, he was just about ready to leave the house on his 
way to business at the bank, of which he was president. 

In a few words Doctor Gillispie told his business. 

The two gentlemen stepped back into the library, which 
looked out upon the front street. Major Shafendore was 
seen to be writing a document, while Doctor Gillispie looked 
over his shoulders and appeared to suggest some change 
or additions now and then. 

When it was finished they both read it over together, 
which appeared to be satisfactory. Doctor Gillispie took 
a check book from his pocket, filled out a blank check, 
and passed it to Major Shafendore, who gave the document 
to the doctor with the remark — " There, sir, she is yours, 
dead or alive. " 



1 08 



MAUDELLE. 



Then the two gentlemen came down the steps together 
chatting in a friendly manner. 

"I am very sorry sir, to see you lose your money," said 
the Major. 

" Having the same concern for you sir, is one of the reasons 
why I called on you this morning and proposed to purchase 
the girl dead or alive," said Doctor Gillispie. 

" Since you are satisfied my dear doctor, I ought to be, be- 
cause I have got your money, and you have got absolutely 
nothing to show for it," said the Major with a hearty laugh. 

"Yes, but I have got something for my money; I have 
a clear conscience, and this brings me to the opportunity 
for an explanation which I fear will make our friendship 
short-lived. 

"I met Maudelle, your servant, yesterday, in the market- 
place. I made it convenient to meet her after that, and 
found out that I not only knew her, but her father also, 
who was a very prominent statesman. I could but feel 
that the child deserved something better than the destiny 
of a slave. I induced her to run away." 

"You did?" said the Major rather sharply. 

"I did," responded the doctor in a spirit of good-natured 
defiance. 

"Do you think your advice to her was for the best?" 
said the Major. 

"I fear it was not, and my w T hole life-time, long or short, 
shall be one continuous atonement, if she has lost her life 
through my interference." 

"She is undoubtedly a dead gal," said the Major. 

"God only knows," said the doctor. 

"God knows nothing about her, no more than He does 
about me or you. The fact is, I have very little faith in 
God Who can't be defined, and Who had no beginning, 
and will never have any end. Away with such foolishness," 
said the Major. 

109 



MAUDELLE. 



"My opinion is quite different; but I will not attempt 
to defend my opinion by argument, since the nature of 
my business does not particularly warrant it. By advising 
the child to leave you, somehow, I felt then, as I do now, 
that I had greatly wronged you — not so much by inducing 
the girl to run away, but wronged you by robbing you of 
the value you put upon such property. I abhor slavery 
and its ruinous consequence; but my way of thinking does 
not license me to steal that for which you have paid your 
money. 

"You valued her at a thousand dollars— I have paid it, 
and now I feel I have atoned for the loss you sustained. 
My next and most important duty, will be to make a dili- 
gent search for her remains, and if recovered, to give it a 
decent burial, as one so exalted by birth, deserves," said the 
doctor. 

He motioned the hackman and was about to be off, but 
just then a crowd of men and boys swung around the cor- 
ner of the block, heading toward the Shaf endore residence ; 
the leader of which led an object tied with a rope. The 
crowd following was made up with roughs and rag-tags 
of the back alleys and gutters. 

Coming nearer, the object was seen to be a girl with an 
old cotton sack tied about her waist as a substitute for a 
dress. 

The crowd halted before the door of Major Shafendore, 
and faced about toward that gentleman who stood on the 
steps beside Doctor Gillispie. "Ah ha, I see you have 
brought in my runaway nigger. Or, I should have said 
your nigger, Doctor Gillispie," said the major, good- 
naturedly. 

Doctor Gillispie made no answer; but bounded off the 
stoop, threw his arms about the object— exclaiming, 
"Thanks be to God! Is it possible my dear Maudelle 
that you still live ?" 



no 



MAUDELLE. 



It was Maudelle, come back as^one from the grave. 

Doctor Gillispie, with pocket knife, cut the rope which 
bound her hands, and which were blue and badly swollen 
under the pressure of the too tightly drawn cords. He 
tossed the rope at the feet of the leader of the mob, with 
the remark, "The rope sir, is yours, but this young lady 
is mine." 

" Jimeny crimeny, boys, that are is the fust time I ever 
knowed a nigger gal could be yong lady," said the ever 
present small boy, whose one-legged pants were stayed 
with one gallows, and the lower end of his shirt hanging 
from a large hole in the seat, as an emblem of poverty. 

"She is yours, boss, when you pay us the one thousand 
dollars reward," said the man. 

"I was not aware sir, that I am indebted to you for any- 
thing," said Doctor Gillispie. "This young lady was ad- 
vertised for sale as she ran, or to be returned for a reward. 
The choice to return her or buy her, was optional with the 
public. I have paid the purchase money and have here 
the bill of sale. Since she became mine, I have offered no 
reward, and propose to pay none. If Major Shafendore 
is generous enough to reward you for returning my child 
I shall not object." 

"Men," said Major Shafendore, "I offered a reward 
of a thousand dollars for this girl's capture and return 
when she was my property; but this gentleman bought 
her, and took his chance of finding her dead or alive. 
Twenty minutes ago she passed out of my hands into 
his, which frees me from my obligation and imposes none 
on him." 

"That is dogged hard luck for us, gentlemen," said the 
crestfallen leader. "If you beat us out of the reward, 
you ought to give us something for risking our lives to save 
hers, when she was drowning." 

"You rescued her, did you?" said Doctor Gillispie. 



in 



MAUDELLE. j 



f "Yes, sir. We were just coming in from our fish traps 
and was only a few yards off from her, when she jumped 
into the river. We caught her and took her to our cabin, 
and made her tell who she was, and about the reward and 
so on," said the leader. 

"What became of her suit of clothes and her watch?" 
inquired Doctor Gillispie. 

"O, well," was the answer of the man who shrugged his 
shoulders and peered around at his comrades with a dog- 
gish look. 

"That means you appropriated the goods to your own 
use. The watch cost one hundred and sixty-five dollars, 
the clothes seventy dollars. This, my dear sir, was robbery, 
and I shall not increase the spoils of men guilty of such a 
crime," said Doctor Gillispie. 

Major Shafendore becoming impatient with the men, 
who were attracting a large crowd before the door, said 
"Now, you fellows have been told that there is nothing 
for you, more than you have stolen, which is a penitentiary 
offence, and now be off, at once, or I will put you in the 
hands of an officer of the law, and have you punished as 
you deserve" — with a waive of the hand he dismissed^hem. 
They knew enough to go, because a poor white man in those 
days had but few rights the rich whites were bound to re- 
spect. 

Doctor Gillispie placed Maudelle in the hack, and the 
two bade the major good-bye and were off. 



112 



CHAPTER XI. 



WHO IS LAWRENCE? 

The writer will*now let Doctor Gillispie complete his 
New Orleans narrative in his own words. 

Says he, "I drove from the residence of Mafor Shafen- 
dore direct to the cottage of my good friends, Mr. and Mrs. 
Sorie. 

"They were as much surprised to see Maudelle alive 
and well as I had been an hour before. We were not long 
in fitting up Maudelle with a neat and rich wardrobe, in 
keeping with her new station in life. 

"When everything was in readiness for our trip North, 
I put my hand on Maudelle's head — 'Now, little girl, have 
you any other friends beside Mr. and Mrs. Sorie you wish 
to bid good-bye ?' said I. 

" 'No one, sir, but Lawrence/ said she. 

"'Who is Lawrence ?' said I, somewhat surprised. 

" 'Lawrence is Judge Deleno's servant who lives on 
the other street, just back of Master Shafendore's, said 
she. 

" 'You mean Major Shafendore's, Maudelle, he is no 
master of yours/ said I. 

"I put several questions to the « child, in order to 
indirectly find out the nature of the friendship between 
them. 

"Nothing could have been more pleasing to one grown 
old in experience, than that frank and open confession 
which she gave of her affection for the one she called Law- 
rence. Hers was not the confession warmed by the pas- 
sionate blush of a mature woman. 



"3 



MAUDELLE. 



"She had never learned any reason for concealing her 
love for the opposite sex. . She loved as an innocent child 
loves a kind friend, or as a refined nature loves a bird or 
a beautiful rose. It was a spontaneous outpouring of her 
innate nature, as it came pure, fresh and simple from the 
bounteous hand of God, down through her heart. 

"It was the springtime of feminine selection, the putting 
forth of early buds, preparatory to the full fruitage of con- 
jugal affection, to be harvested by the mutual blending 
of two souls. 

"Her confession was to me an interesting study, from 
which I coined a new thought — a thought which entirely 
revolutionized my life-long opinion of the enslaved people. 
I had always thought that oppression had a tendency to 
embitter one's social nature. 

"I was of the opinion that anything like love, under such 
circumstances was rather mechanical — was more of the 
animal instinct than of the warm, tender, emotional pas- 
sion of the soul. 

"I had always thought that the young heart, inhumanly 
crushed by severe, tyrannical owners, became a deadly 
enemy to everything human, and incapable of responding 
to the divine touch of connubial affection. 

"I have been told by those claiming to be well versed in 
the characteristics of the enslaved, that they made the most 
cruel masters, when fortune favored them with slaves, 
cruel fathers, cruel husbands, wives and mothers. 

"I was surprised to discover a sanctuary away down deep 
in the heart of Maudelle, which was as yet untouched by 
violent hands. A sanctuary which was full of the sweet 
and hallowed trust of a pure and simple nature, wholly 
consecrated to the first impulse of love. 

"A sanctuary in which — to her was enshrined the sacred 
image of one destined to rule as a king, one which defied 
invasion unconsciously. 



114 



MAUDELLE. 



"Was that little fourteen-year-old girl real'y in love? 

"Yes, most undoubtedly in love; but neither she or the 
boy knew it, nor did they even know the meaning of the 
word. 

"Nothing to my mind can be more fortunate for young 
people, than to love early in life — I mean that innocent, 
child-like love. It is a safe-guard to both sexes. 

"To the boy whose tendencies are naturally downward, 
love reminds him that he owes a pure life and unblemished 
character to the girl of whom he expects the same. 

"To the girl, she will have, not only the watchful care of 
parents, but that of the young man or boy, who is ever ready 
to champion her cause at home and abroad. 

"The vicious, ill-designing youngster will not so rapidly 
approach the girl improperly, who is loved and guarded by 
a worthy young man. 

"Maudelle and Lawrence were to each other as we have 
described, but neither had dreamed of the final outcome. 
The future was a blank to be filled or not, as circumstances 
should develop. With them, it was an innocent and ig- 
norant choice for life, and of all love that is the most pure 
and constant. There is no jealous rivalry, no foolish, un- 
easy, restless, unwarranted suspicion of other admirers; 
but on the other hand, they are the more pleased when others 
show their preference for those they love. 

"I have seen lovers whose condition I really pitied. I 
mean lovers, who were sufficiently experienced to appreci- 
ate the real significance of affection and its obligations. 

"There seem not to be one unbroken twenty-four hours 
of real pleasure for them. Their jealous passions were 
like sentinels on guard, and ever on the alert for invaders 
of the heart they claimed as all their own. Such lovers 
become as selfish, mean and stingy as a clam. They are 
not even willing for the one they love to give away so much 
as one little pitiful smile or kind look. 



MAUDELLE, 

4 

"'Then Maudelle, you have a beau, I suppose,' said I. 
" Seeing that she was ignorant of the meaning, I deter 
mined to keep her so as long as I could. 
" 4 What is a beau, sir ?' said she. 

" 'Why, a beau is a kind friend who is willing to protect 
you from danger without expecting pay for his services/ 
said I. 

" 'Then Lawrence is my beau, sir/ said she. 

" 'I suppose Lawrence has been kind to you, since you 
claim him as your beau?' said I. 

" 'Yes, sir, many, many times, he has run over to our 
house and helped me get through my work, when I had 
too much to do, and saved me a great many whippings. 
A good many times w T hen mistress got mad with me, and 
would not let me have anything to eat, Lawrence has given 
me food. I want to thank him for all he has done, and bid 
him good-bye, and tell him where to find me when he gets 
free,' said she. 

" 'Then, Maudelle, you believe he will become free some- 
time, do you?' said I. 

" 'O yes, sir. Judge Deleno has promised Lawrence 
his freedom if Lawrence is a good boy as long as the Judge 
lives,' said she. 

"At the thought of the boy becoming free, Maudelle 's 
face lighted up with smiles, and showed the high estimate 
the enslaved puts upon freedom. 

" T hope, my dear girl, you will not be disappointed,' 
said I. 

"I thought to myself that if Lawrence had in him one 
living spark of manhood, he would not wait for his freedom 
at the pleasure of a master but would take it by the author- 
ity of Almighty God and the efforts of his manhood. 

"But sometimes we find out how little we know, and 
really do for the best, for all concerned, as we shall soon 
see. 

116 



MAUDELLE. 



"'Lawrence has been saving money for a long time to 
buy me, and set me free when he gets free,' said she. 

"Of course, I said nothing to discourage the child w T ho 
seemed to have so much faith in a promise, which I knew 
could be broken with impunity. 

"My opinion of Judge Deleno, was the opinion I had 
of all slaveholders, that they differed in age, size, and finan- 
cial standing, but never in principle. 

"Since I had several hours to spare before train time, I 
determined to venture a call on Judge Deleno, and offer 
to purchase the boy Lawrence, and free him, provided I 
should find him a promising young man. 

"From what Maudelle had told me of the boy, I plainly 
saw that at sometime there would be a still closer relation 
between the two young people. 

"From the hour I recognized Maudelle in New Orleans, 
I made up my mind, with a sort of secret covenant with 
myself, to take the place of her dead father. 

"Now, that she was free and wealthy, I did not intend 
that an unworthy man should share her love and fortune, 
if an effort on my part could prevent it. 

"By following the direction Maudelle gave me, I found 
myself before a stately mansion of press brick, embellished 
with white marbled water tables, ornamented pilasters, 
and windows, doors, capped and silled, with cut and fin- 
ished cream-colored stone. The door casings were of 
heavy walnut, skilfully carved and turned. 

"All the metal ware about the openings was plated with 
silver. Scrupulously polished French glass in two solid 
pieces 40 x 52 inches, filled the mahogany stained sash. 

"The house set back a hundred feet or more from the 
street, with a carriage road coming down on the south side 
from a brick barn in the rear. The smooth, white shell 
walk which led from the street to the front door of the man- 
sion, was beset on each side by large, white stone vases, 

117 



MAUDELLE* 



in which grew choice flowers of variegated colors, grace- 
fully bending to the pleasant March wind, and sweetening 
it with a symphony of mellow odors. 

"In the center of the lawn of evenly shorn grass, set a 
pool, or basin twenty feet in diameter, in the center of 
which a bronze pelican stood, pouring fresh water from his 
beak to accommodate a great variety of pet fish, which cut 
their sportive evolution in the rays of the sun, and filtered 
water through their silvery gills. 

"I mounted the white marble stoop, pulled the bell, 
and was admitted by a remarkably fine looking young man, 
of a light mulatto in color, perhaps sixteen years of age. 
I presented my card and was seated in what appeared to be 
a private office. 

"In a few minutes the young man returned and said, 
' Judge Deleno will be pleased to see you, sir, in the library. 
This way sir, please.' 

"I followed my guide through a spacious hall, along the 
walls of which stood rare pieces of statuary, while on the 
walls hung master productions of brush studies which evi- 
dently credited the judge as a man of culture. At the rear 
end of the hall we entered a large, well-lighted library, 
every available part of wall space was filled with books. 

"An old gentleman, tall and graceful in address, attired 
in a rich study robe, arose and received me kindly. The 
warm grasp of the hand, the honest, pleasing countenance, 
the mild, tender, fatherly tone of voice made me really 
love the man in spite of my prejudice against the slave- 
holder. I began to think after all, there were many good 
Christian people who held slaves, and perhaps the slaves 
of such people were better cared for than many free hired 
servants, whose scanty earnings could not keep them above 
want. 

"A volume of Blackstone lay open on a square morocco- 
covered table. 

118 



MAUDELLE. 



" After a few minutes conversation on no particular topic, 
I intimated to the Judge, that I had called to see him on 
private business. 

" 'You may go, Lawrence, until I call you/ said the Judge. 

"The young man took the book from the table, politely 
thanked the Judge for the leave of absence and retired. 

"I certainly must have shown my astonishment when 
I discovered that Lawrence, the negro slave, was a law 
pupil of Judge Deleno, his master. 

"The learned judge saw that I was wonderstruck, and 
kindly came to my relief with an explanation. Tt may 
seem to you, sir, a little strange to find my slave boy study- 
ing law,' said the judge. 

" 'Indeed, sir, it is. I did not know that a negro slave 
of the South was allowed to read and write, much less to 
study the profession of law, 5 said I. 

" 'Were you to become better acquainted with the people 
of the South, you would not condemn us all for the sins 
of a few. We are not all cruel, unmerciful, blood-letting 
task masters as your people of the North imagine,' said the 
Judge. 

"The judge told me that Lawrence was distinguished 
for uprightness, truthfulness, honesty and untiring indus- 
try, as well as an apt pupil. 

"I gave the Judge the history of Maudelle. I asked 
him if he knew the two young people were liking one 
another. 

" 'O yes,' said he. 'Lawrence and I have made a contract 
to buy the girl provided he should save what money he 
could until my death, then I am to leave him whatever 
balance he lacked. Do you know, doctor, the boy has 
already about five hundred dollars in my hands especially 
for that purpose. 

"'Of course it is my intention, and I have already ar- 
ranged it, to give him his freedom and sufficient means to 



119 



MAUDELLE. 



start him in business at my death. I have not explained 
all the details to him, except that he is to be free.' 

"I told the judge that my main object for calling on him, 
was to purchase Lawrence and free him. 

" 'Well/ said the judge, 'I have always told Lawrence, 
that at any time he wanted to change masters, he might 
do so. To be sure, I cannot see how I could do without 
him. I have been a victim of the asthma for twenty years, 
and Lawrence understands my case better than any of my 
family, and I know I cannot live long with the best atten- 
tion he and others can give — without it, I should be gone 
much sooner. 

" 'Seventy-six years of mental and physical wear, together 
with an incurable ailment, leaves but little of one's life at 
that age. 

" 'So you see, my dear doctor, should you remove my 
last prop, I would tumble into the grave very soon.' 

"These words of the judge were said so earnestly and 
touchingly, that the tears crept down my cheeks, and 
betrayed my weakness despite my efforts to appear un- 
moved. 

"I begged the good man's pardon for having even made 
mention of a matter that could have disturbed his peace 
of mind. 

"I got up to go — he put his gentle hand on my arm—- 
'My dear doctor, may I hope to see you again sometime?' 

"I assured him I would be greatly pleased to call on him 
the next time I came to New Orleans. 

" 'That must be very soon,' said he, 'or you will have 
to wait and find me in heaven.' I promised him that I 
would join him there if I missed him here. 

"We parted, not like acquaintances of an hour, but as 
dear, devoted friends. 

"Lawrence was allowed to go with me back to the house 
of my friends, the Sorie family. 



120 



MAUDELLE. 



"Maudelle and Lawrence met and parted like two in- 
nocent loving children, but no one could tell under what 
circumstances they would meet again, if ever. 

"Maudelle and I took the train at eight o'clock that night 
for H— , Kentucky." 



CHAPTER XII. 



THEY HAVE SOLD MY DEAD PAPA. 

"Twenty-three hours out from New Orleans" con- 
tinues the doctor in his narrative, "brought us to the then 
flourishing little city of H — , Kentucky, five miles from 
the birthplace of Maudelle. 

"Of course the girl was more than anxious to visit the 
old homestead, and especially the grave of her father and 
mother. 

"Although seven years had come and gone since she 
saw her father die, seven years since she kissed her mother 
good-night, and never saw her again; seven years since she 
woke up in a lonely log cabin in a forest, sick from the ef- 
fects of chloroform, and a deep gash in her breast; seven 
eventful years since she was dragged from a rag couch in 
the cabin of Jim Bowler and Sam Dobson, and sold to slave 
traders; yet everything was as fresh and vivid in her memory, 
as though it happened but twenty hours ago. She knew 
every face that she had ever known before; but she had 
been so long lost and forgotten by others, and then, with 
the addition of seven years of new growth upon her, no one 
knew her. 

"It was to our advantage that it was so, since we had 
agreed to conceal our identity until our plans to recover 
the lost property were thoroughly matured. 

"An hour's drive on the old familiar and well-kept pike, 
brought us to the Morroe mansion, or what was left of the 
wreck. 

"What was once the beautiful lawn, eighty feet broad 
by two hundred feet long, led from the pike to the house, 



122 



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i;u9M; pire sinoq moj puB 'uooui9ijB 9tp in ipop^o oa\; ;b 
' — H J° i[DBq ui9tp ;i{2nojq 9Aiip s ( jnoi{ uy 

•uosmb^ *JJ\[ piBs a 's9doi{ 9ujnSuBS 
;sora moA ui no A juioddBsip }ou \\ija 9ijs }Bip 9ms mB j„ 



MAUDELLE. 



once artistically laid off with a variety of evergreens, vases, 
pools and statuary, was now overgrown with weeds, poison 
vines, wild briers and thorns — a safe retreat for hooting 
owls and creeping reptiles. 

"The house was occupied by a family of whites, evidently 
belonging to the lower strata of society. The woman, whose 
waist was straight with her shoulders, and with thin, yellow 
hair tucked behind her ears, and a snuff brush between her 
stained lips, met us at the door. 

"She carried a dirty-faced baby in her arms, while four 
or five others of her offspring, gazed from doors and 
windows, and punched one another in the ribs for more 
room. 

"I told the woman we were old friends of the Monroe 
family which she took as sufficient excuse for our visit. 
The once beautiful and happy home of Senator Morroe 
presented a woful picture. The eight massive, skilfully 
mrned pillars which supported the gallery roof, twenty 
feet from floor to floor, were chipped, hacked and sawed 
into, until they presented more the appearance of chopping 
blocks, than things of beauty or ornamentation. The glass 
was broken from more than two-thirds of the window sash, 
and their places supplied with rags, old hats and bits of 
plank. 

"The plastering on the walls was broken into great holes, 
the richly carved casings and walnut doors were black with 
greasy finger marks, and unmercifully mutilated by that 
"pest", the small boy and his destructive jackknife. The 
parlors which the occupants were too poor to furnish, were 
used for storing potatoes and pumpkins in the Winter. 
In fact the entire mansion and outbuildings were total 
wrecks. 

"Disgusted and heart-sick over the fearful waste of the 
dead man's property, we repaired to the family graveyard 
to pay our duty to the dead. 

123 



MAUDELLE. 



"Here again a woful neglect met our eyes. The graves 
were sunken, the tombstones had fallen over, and the entire 
place was one entangled mass of briers, weeds and bushes, 
which had for seven years grown undisturbed by human 
hands. 

"After searching for a long time, Maudelle found the 
grave of her father. She worked her way through briers 
and bushes to the headstone. Here she stood for several 
minutes in deep meditation, then turning to me said, 
'Doctor, when people sell a plantation on which there is a 
graveyard, is it included in the sale?' 

"I saw the meaning and anticipated the result; but an- 
swered truthfully, 'yes.' 

" 'Then they have sold my dead papa,' said she. She 
fell upon her knees, threw her arms around the headstone, 
kissed the name and sobbed aloud. I pushed my way to 
her through the thick underbrush, and put my hand on her 
head. 'Dry your tears, Maudelle,' said I. 'Not only this 
grave but the entire estate of your father shall be restored 
to you.' 

" 'Come now, let us return to H — , hunt up Attorney 
Lawson, your guardian, and make ourselves known to him, 
and at once reopen the suit against your enemies who have 
defrauded you of your property.' It was impossible to 
find the grave of her mother, as there was no stone to mark 
the spot. 

"In another hour we sat in the office of the astonished 
attorney, who listened to our story with profound interest. 

"Maudelle explained to Mr. Lawson, how that she had 
found herself in a lonely log cabin in the forest, with an 
ugly jagged wound in the breast, which was very painful 
owing to the fact that it was covered with salt. 

"She said two white men and Jake came and examined 
the wound and said, the cut might have killed a white girl 
but not a nigger. 



124 



MAUDELLE. 



"Of course she knew Jake and begged him to take her 
home, but that he made all manner of fun of her and said 
if she was not satisfied with her present home she would 
be killed. 

"She said that Rev. Adams came to the cabin at night, 
and that she felt sure that he would have her sent home for 
her father's sake, but he too, made fun of her, and said she 
would soon find a home in a cook house of New Orleans 
or in the nigger heaven. 

"She said that late in the night, four or five other white 
men came to the cabin, and that they examined her and 
made her stand up and walk across the room several times 
without any clothes on. And that Jake was left in the 
cabin to watch her, while Mr. Adams and the white men 
talked a long time in the wood shed only a few feet from 
the cabin, and that she could hear about all they said. 

"She heard Mr. Adams say, ' Gentlemen she is well w r orth 
$700.00. She has good blood in her, and she is going to 
make a likely- looking woman.' 

" She said that after a long time it seemed that Air. Adams 
and the men agreed on a price, and then she was put into 
a covered two-horse wagon with several other colored people 
whose hands w^ere chained together, and that they were all 
taken to the Ohio River and shipped on a boat to New 
Orleans. 

"She said that after being kept in prison until the wound 
in the breast had healed, then she was sold to Major Shaf- 
endore where Dr. Gillispie found her." 

During the interval of Maudelle's bondage, Mr. Adams 
had died. The end came to him and his friends unlooked 
for, because up to his death there appeared no sign of ill 
health. 

He arose from bed early that morning as was his usual 
custom, he took a long walk, bathed and ate a hearty break- 
fast. He then went to his study and made preparations 



125 



MAUDELLE. 



to preach a funeral at ten o'clock that morning. His ser- 
mon was a master effort, owing to the prominency of the 
deceased. 

The weather was warm and oppressive, as June weather 
always is in the South. It was noticed that he was labor- 
ing hard to reach his highest climax at the conclusion; and 
his last words were, "Our friend and fellow-citizen, and 
much lamented brother Mechem, has passed beyond the 
invisible river, and who is next to follow?" 

At this point he threw up his hands, and cried out, " Where 
am I?" and fell forward on his face, under a fatal stroke 
of apoplexy, from which he never rallied nor spoke again. 

The final end came in a few hours, and the great Rev. 
Noah Adams had gone to take the immortal spirit back to 
the God Who gave it to him. His sudden death left his 
business affairs exposed to the criticisms of those whose 
duty it was to readjust his matters pertaining to H — Uni- 
versity during his administration as president. 

It was thought by a great many that Mr. Adams came 
into the possession of the Morroe estate by some unfair 
means. But since the legatees were negroes, and the prop- 
erty had gone to the credit of H — University, no one ex- 
cept Mr. Lawson had enough interest in the matter to 
attempt an investigation. But now that Maudelle had come 
up from the grave — as it seemed, and brought back by a 
friend of her dead father, (Dr. Gillispie) who knew all the 
circumstances relative to the death, the marriage and will 
of Senator Morroe, to which he was not only an eye witness, 
but had affixed his name to the will. Encouraged by such 
reliable data, Mr. Lawson decided to take steps at once to 
open the case in court. 

The first — and most essential thing to be done, was to 
find a certain document which would show the develop- 
ment and final execution of conspiracy against the heir to 
the property. 



126 



MAUDELLE. 



It was supposed that Mr. Adams was the principal in 
the plot, and would be likely to have kept the papers in his 
possession, not that they would be of any particular use to 
him after he had gained his purpose, except to be used as 
menace to coerce his accomplices into silence, when they 
drew too frequently on his pocket. 

A large, double-jointed, red-faced man stepped into the 
office of Mr. Lawson, and the two went into the private of- 
fice, shut the door and conferred together for a few minutes, 
then Mr. Lawson came out, bade Dr. Gillispie and Maudelle 
good-bye and said, "I will see you tomorrow morning." 

The doctor and Maudelle went to their hotel, while Mr. 
Lawson and the red-faced man hurried from the office to- 
gether. 

It was near night. There was but a narrow line of day 
lying between the departing sun and the horizon. Nature 
awake and busy all day, was now taking on its sleepy ap- 
pearance. The soiled-faced laborers, returning home, gave 
longer — but much slower steps than in the morning. Their 
legs, as well as the hands and head, had expended another 
ten hours of vital energy and they could not respond so 
readily to the will as when the day began, and the laborer 
was fresh from a recuperative night's rest. The fowls were 
gathering about their perch. The good-natured cows with 
well-filled stomachs and udders full of milk, came stepping 
lazily along toward home while responding now and then 
to the bleating of their calves. The watch dog who had 
dragged the block and chain at his neck all day, with the 
yard fence as the extent of his freedom, seemed to have taken 
on new life, and was frisking about because he knew, that at 
t he setting of the sun, he would be unfettered for the night. 

As the sun disappeared and darkness crept slowly on, 
doors and window blinds were closed and lamps were lit, 
and friends only were welcome, while strangers were re- 
luctantly admitted after their motives were closely questioned. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



A SEARCH FOR THE AGREEMENT OF CONSPIRACY. 

It was now that a rap, rap, rap, at the door of the Widow 
Adams' startled the inmates and brought the servant girl 
to the door. "Who is you?" inquired the girl. 

"William Lawson and friend," was the answer. Tne 
name Lawson was so well known that no other question 
was necessary, and the door was thrown wide open, through 
which Mr. Lawson and a vicious looking red-faced man 
entered and took their stand in the hall. Mr. Lawson 
wrote something on a card — gave it to the girl who hurried 
away to her mistress. Mrs. Adams adjusted her glasses, 
and then looked over them to read it. "Lord O' Messy, 
Lord O' Messy, why Cindy, that is John Simmons the con- 
stable with Mr. Lawson — Why, what does John Simmons 
want here? Lord 0' Messy, what have we to do with the 
constable? I — I — do wish they would let us alone — for 
any kind of an officer scares me. Dog take it! I suppose I 
must go and see what they want." This said, the old lady 
with hands pressing on her knees, rose slowly to her feet, 
as the long-used joints snapped and popped as they fell 
into an erect line. 

Cindy followed her mistress at a respectful distance, so 
that if anything unusual happened, she would be near 
enough to scream if nothing more. 

Mrs. Adams timidly met the gentlemen with all the po- 
liteness and affability, for which the cultured Southern 
people are particularly distinguished, and they in turn re- 
ciprocated with mutual greetings. The officer drew from 
his pocket a search warrant, which he read to Mrs. Adams, 

128 



MAUDELLE. 



and excused himself for being under the necessity to disturb 
her, to search for certain papers relative to the Morroe estate. 

With the usual confidence which a good wife has in the 
honesty, uprightness and virtue of her husband, Mrs. Adams 
assured the gentlemen that they would find nothing derog- 
atory to the high moral character of the Rev. Noah Adams. 
This was said with earnestness and with special emphasis 
on the name of her dead husband. 

"No" said the officer, "No one would dare attack the 
pure life and exalted name of Mr. Adams. Our citizens 
would not tolerate such liberty." Thus, Mrs. Adams was 
made easy by that little touch of deception, which, if not 
true, was at least admissible under the circumstances. 
The fact is, Mrs. Adams knew nothing of the conspiracy, 
and the part taken by Mr. Adams. 

It was well she did not, because such was her pure, Chris- 
tian character, and fairness of dealing with mankind, that 
she could not, nor would not have remained passive while 
such a gigantic crime was at work. She came of a family, 
whose long line of Southern ancestry, and whose history 
was unmarked by the slightest tint of immorality or dis- 
honesty. 

Of this she was justly proud, and those who knew her, 
honored and loved her, for taking such excellent care of 
the old family reputation. She led the way to every part 
of the house, and opened trunks and drawers for the of- 
ficers. Cindy tagged along behind, near enough never 
to lose sight of her mistress, whom she loved as dear as 
her own life. 

The entire house proper had been gone over, except a 
small annex known, as the study of Mr. Adams. 

At this door the good woman halted, hesitated and ap- 
peared to be greatly embarrassed. Her strange action ex- 
cited suspicion in the minds of the gentlemen, despite the 
high opinion and confidence they had in the model woman. 



129 



MAUDELLE 



The gentlemen interpreted her unwillingness to enter the 
study as conclusive evidence that the thing they wanted 
was in there. 

"Why do you object to our going into the study?" said 
the officer. 

" Simply because it is the only place on earth where I 
can communicate with the spirit of my dead husband/' 
said she, as her eyes filled, and the last word sank to a 
whisper. 

" Do you mean to say that you really see and communicate 
with the spirit of your husband ?" said Mr. Lawson. 

"O no, I neither see nor hear anything, but I am just 
as sensible of his presence as I am of yours. 

' "I go into the study and take my seat, as I frequently 
did when he was living, I close my eyes and place my mind 
on him, and shut out all else until I have forgotten the world 
and myself; and at this point, I feel an unmistakable holy 
influence fill the room, and it is around me and in me, and 
it seems that our two souls talk to each other for fifteen or 
twenty minutes. When it is over and we part, I am the 
most happy mortal on earth. I fear that if you gentlemen 
go into the place and disturb his things you will break the 
charm, and the pleasure of my declining days will end, and 
I would not care to live an hour longer. 

"No one but myself has ever put foot in there since his 
death. Everything in the room is just as he left it on the 
morning of his death. I have not moved a scrap of paper, 
book, nor piece of furniture in the room." 

The officer assured her that he would replace every book, 
letter, etc., exactly as he found them. The good woman 
shrugged her shoulders as a token of much doubt, and said, 
"Well, you are an officer, and I suppose I must obey." 

She wiped a tear from her eye — adjusted the key in the 
lock — turned it, and pushed Jthe door open, while she and 
the two gentlemen stepped inside. 

130 



MAUDELLE. 



Cindy halted at the]* door — laid her cheek against the 
outside door casing, and stood half bent, peeping in at the 
manoeuvres of the gentlemen. Everything in the study was 
as Mrs. Adams had described. The study gown hung on 
the back of his easy chair, and the slippers were in front of 
the chair, in the position as when he slipped his feet out of 
them. The study skull cap with soiled handkerchief in it, 
lay on the table beside an open book. 

Pen, ink, and a half -finished sermon in course of prepara- 
tion for the following Sunday, lay on the desk. 

The ever present and ingenious spider, had tied the walls 
of the room together with his silvery cables, and hung up 
lace nets in all the sharp angles, from which the bones of 
flies long dead, dangled, which had been butchered years 
ago. 

A thick coating of grey dust had held undisputed right 
to a resting place on every article in the room, since the 
death of Mr. Adams. 

Somehow there was a feeling of reverential awe which 
crept over one despite all effort to throw it off. No doubt 
this could be attributed, more than anything else, to the 
singular condition of the place, wilich reminded one of an 
underground sepulchre, rather than a literary study-room. 
Added to this were the distressed moans and long drawn out, 
"Lord O' Messy!— Lord O' Messy!" of Mrs. Adams, during 
the hour's search. 

However the search went on carefully through books, 
papers, old sermons, written speeches, letters, etc. Every- 
thing was replaced exactly as found, even to old empty en- 
velopes and small scraps of waste paper. 

The gentlemen were considerably nonplussed, that the 
ground had been so thoroughly gone over, without disclos- 
ing the object of so much importance. The officer closed 
the desk 7 shut the last drawer — pushed the glass door of 
the book case shut, and turned to go, just then, Mr. Lawson 



MAUDELLE. 



pointed to a large book in the case, the leaves of which stood 
the least bit apart. 

The officer drew the book out, took from it a document- 
opened it hurriedly, glanced over the headlines, then the 
names at the bottom — put it in his coat pocket — nodded his 
head to Mr. Lawson and the two gentlemen bid Mrs. Adams 
good-bye, and left the premises. 



132 



CHAPTER XIV. 



THE TRIAL. 

It was about two weeks prior to the convening of court 
in H — , Kentucky, which gave Mr. Lawson time to prepare 
his case and get it before the grand jury and on the docket 
of the court. 

It was not publicly known that Mr. Adams had endorsed 
or taken any part in the conspiracy against the heir of Sen- 
ator Morroe, yet common rumor pointed that way for a year 
or so after Morroe's death, and then was forgotten. 

But now Mr. Lawson had found the original docu- 
ment bearing the day, date, and the recognized name of 
Noah Adams as party of the first part, and Sam Dobson, 
and Jim Bowler as parties of the second part. 

This agreement was properly and legally drawn with min- 
ute specifications of the parts to be executed by all concerned, 
and the amount to be paid in cash on beginning, and bal- 
ance when the work was consummated. 

Why Mr. Adams kept such a dangerous paper in his pos- 
session was not easy to account for, unless it was as a menace, 
to coerce his confederates into silence, when they drew on 
him too often for the balance due which appears never to 
have been fully paid, judging from the small cash credits 
taken on the back of the paper. From the character of the 
evidence and the prominence of the principal conspirator, 
was sure to bring on a gigantic sensation for the usually 
quiet little town of H — . 

When Mr. Lawson made out his charges and placed them 
— with the conspirators' agreement, before the grand jury, 
that body seemed at first to be unwilling to believe, that 



x 33 



MAUDELLE. 



what they saw before them, was anything but a delusive 
dream. But it was really of material substance, F it would 
not vanish into nothingness, it was a positive reality with a 
real, tangible story to tell, which it had kept intact for seven 
years. 

Mr. Adams, the principal actor, was dead, and thereby 
passed beyond the annoyance of exposure and prosecution. 
But there was Sam Dobson, Jim Bowler and Jake Cobb, 
still living and within easy reach, and against them bills 
of indictment were made out. 

The names of the two white men on the contract, was the 
most damaging evidence against them, and the statement 
of Maudelle, made Jake accessory. The three men were 
arrested and jailed. The two white criminals belonged to 
the lowest class of whites, who had neither money nor char- 
acter themselves, nor friends who had sufficient confidence 
in them, to make their bond of $2,000 each. 

Their associates were those characters which make up 
mobs, brave the danger, defy the law, shed innocent blood 
and suffer their penalty when caught, for a few dollars of 
a rich man's money. 

Jake Cobb, the negro criminal, was well satisfied to stay 
in jail, because it was about the best home he had ever had, 
since the death of his master. It seemed to be essential 
to a well-regulated plantation, stocked with slaves, to have 
one negro as a tale bearer; a kind of end man, to sneak 
about and watch the doings of the other negroes, and re- 
port to his master. This treacherous scamp was more to 
be dreaded than the master himself, because if any of the 
servants displeased him, he would manufacture a lie and 
have that one beaten. Jake Cobb held that position on 
the Monroe plantation. 

p When the public became authoritatively informed of the 
conspiracy, and the chief actor — which was a man whom 
every one admired, respected and had implicit faith in, as 



i34 



MAUDELLE. 



far as he was known, such information came like an electric 
bolt from a cloudless sky. 

The people were struck with a panic, when they saw their 
spiritual teacher of twenty odd years, blackened with crime, 
and bespattered with innocent human blood, for which their 
great divine had bargained and paid the price. Many of 
those well up in the trusted confidence of Mr. Adams, were 
at first unwilling to give any credence to the report. They 
tenaciously clung to the belief that it was a case of forgery 
by some malicious enemy of Mr. Adams. 

But as the case in its progress, began to evolve unbroken 
links and weave the web of entanglement about the three 
parties in jail and the name of Mr. Adams, the strong friends 
of the great man slowly gave up their opinions and bowed 
to the inevitable. The contract was undoubtedly a gen- 
uine Adams document, bearing his familiar handwriting, 
his style of language and his signature, interlined, tied to- 
gether, and whipsawed in so many ways, that it was almost 
impossible to read it, without a cipher-key. 

The paper set forth his obligations to pay in cash $4,000 
when the three other parties of the second part signed the 
agreement, and a balance of $4,000 when these parties de- 
livered deeds, notes, bonds and other papers of Morroe, 
into the hands of Mr. Adams, or put the child or her mother 
out of the way, as either would serve his purpose. Accord- 
ing to the statement of Jake, Mr. Adams always contended 
that the contract was never carried out as agreed on, and 
therefore he refused to settle the balance in full, and the 
men had no redress but to take whatever small dribs he 
chose to advance. 

A day or so before the trial, Jake the negro criminal, sent 
for Mr. Lawson to come to the jail, as he had something of 
importance to tell him. In an hour Mr. Lawson was at 
Jake's cell in the jail. As might have been expected from 
one of Jake's character and life-long habits, he made a clean 

I3S 



MAUDELLE. 



and full statement of the conspiracy, and not only included 
Mr. Adams and the two men in jail, but involved other prom- 
inent white men, several of whom were then serving as trus- 
tees, and holding places of honor in H— University. 

Mr. Lawson knew he could not reach the other parties 
through the statement of Jake, because at that time, the 
testimony of a negro was worth nothing at court. 

However, he proposed to make use of the information in 
order to strengthen his case, and weaken the opposition. 
He made it convenient to see those men singly, which had 
been named by Jake Cobb, and let them know that he had 
facts in the case against them, without giving his author, 
and promise not to expose them, unless they forced him to 
it by their opposition to his case. 

The promises on both sides were faithfully kept. On 
the day of the trial, the two white criminals were arraigned 
in court and of course plead not guilty. As Jake's name 
was not on the contract, he was not considered a direct prin- 
cipal in the case, but as an accessory, and would appear 
in another phase of the case. 

The contention of Mr. Lawson was about this in sub- 
stance. That a contract between the parties whose names 
occur on it, proved a clear case of conspiracy, in order to 
get unlawful control of the property of Senator George 
Morroe. 

That the parties now in custody — Sam Dobson and Jim 
Bowler, agreed for a certain amount of money, to rob the 
heir of Morroe of all deeds, will, and other papers of value, 
or to murder the said heir (Maudelle Morroe) and her mother. 
And that the house was broken into and searched, and that 
on failing to find papers, etc., — that an assault was made 
with intent to kill both mother and child. 

But on failing to kill them, the child was sold into slavery 
and the mother died the next day with a broken heart. 
And that the heir, Maudelle Morroe, was supposed to be 



136 



MAUDELLE. 



dead, and that the court ordered the property turned over 
to the trustees of H — University, according to the specifi- 
cations of the will. 

But that now the heir — Maudelle Morroe, was living, 
and of sound body and mind, and would be presented to 
the court in due time, he prayed that the court would re- 
verse its order and award not only the property, but a legal 
rate of interest, from the time the trustees came into pos- 
session of the property, until it should be turned over to the 
rightful owner. 

Court opened on Monday morning, and Mr. Lawson's 
case was set for Wednesday of the following week. This 
gave the lawyers for and against — sufficient time to prepare 
themselves for what promised to be a hard legal fight. It 
was — William Lawson and James G. Craig, for the plaintiff, 
and John H. Jefferson and Samuel Stephenson for the de- 
fendant. 

The date set for the trial came, and brought with it a 
vast number of people from the country, in addition to the 
excited populace of the town of H — , which crowded the 
court room to its utmost seating and standing limit. 

To give a verbatim transcription of the argument of the at- 
torneys for the plaintiff and the defendant, with all the vari- 
ous turns and phases the trial assumed in its progress, 
would run this chapter to a tiresome length. 

To obviate this, we believe the better plan will be, to give 
a true synopsis of the proceedings of the court rather than 
take the risk of displeasing the reader with too much min- 
ute detailing. The arguments opened with the greatest 
possible care on both sides of the case, that the court and 
jury might not lose trace of a single thread from the begin- 
ning to the close. 

The four lawyers in the case were not only the most tal- 
ented, but also the most cultured and dignified gentlemen 
in that city. There was none of those slang phrases and 



I 37 



MAUDELLE. 



that unwarranted abuse — so common to those little half- 
cultured ten-cent lawyers, who infest the office of the Jus- 
tice of the Peace and skin the victim, while the justice holds 
him. 

When it seemed that the lawyers had selected and staked 
off the field over which the great legal contest was to take 
place, they moved forward by steady, cautious steps, and 
warmed up to the highest pitch of legal eloquence, and con- 
tinued thus for two successive days. 

One of the most difficult phases in the case met with so 
far and to be overcome by the attorneys for the plaintiff, 
was to prove that the girl Maudelle, was the daughter of 
George Morroe as claimed, or some other girl brought for- 
ward for the occasion. 

Although Mr. Lawson had seen the girl from time to 
time, from her birth up to the death of her father, but he 
could not truthfully say that she was the same girl. 

Many of the childish features — prominent in the child 
of seven years, were either lost altogether in the fourteen- 
year-old girl or had changed beyond positive recognition, 
and the only thing left was a rather weak chain of circum- 
stantial evidence. 

Dr. Gillispie was put upon the stand and he made a clear 
statement as to the child at the death of her father, and the 
rumor of the disappearance of Maudelle, and the way he 
found her in New Orleans. 

He produced the bill of sale of the purchase of the girl, 
and gave his reasons for bringing her back home. 

Maudelle was sent for and brought into court, to give tes- 
timony to prove her identity, by giving a description of her 
father. 

When put upon the stand facing the great blaze of eyes, 
she became excited and greatly embarrassed, but the kind, 
fatherly judge came to her relief. Said he — "My dear little 
girl, you need not be frightened, no one shall hurt you, just 

138 



MAUDELLE. 



go right along and tell your story and I will see to it that 
you are protected." 

Maudelle turned her face to the judge and thanked him 
with a modest smile and bow of the head. A whisper in 
undertone of approval of her gratitude ran through the 
audience and she had gained one point of sympathy. 

There sat the daughter of the much-lamented Senator, 
George Monroe, in whom ended the name and posterity of 
the Monroe family, and she had shown herself worthy of 
the trust. In the fact that she had been put to the test, 
and came out proof against the assassin's knife, the grave 
in the forest, the seven years of slavery, the chase of the 
blood hounds and the plunge into the black water of the 
Mississippi. These achievements entitled her to poise before 
the court as a heroine of no ordinary reputation. 

After she became composed, and somewhat reconciled to 
the curious gaze of the audience, she was told to begin as 
far back in her life as she could remember, and up to the 
death of her father. She began at the age of eighteen months, 
and told a straight story up to the hour when her father was 
stabbed. On entering into a repetition of that scene, her 
throat filled and voice faltered. The kind judge helped her 
again to go through the difficult task. 

Said he, " Take your time, my little daughter, I know what 
it is to lose a father. I saw my father die, so you see, we 
have both suffered alike." 

She turned her suffused eyes on the judge, bowed her 
thanks, and renewed the effort, and went through without 
a moment's hesitation, and not only described the assassin, 
but also the number of wounds and their location. 

She minutely pictured the sickroom, the persons present 
and what they said and did, and last words of her father, 
which was so dramatically touching, that the court and ma- 
jority of the audience hung their heads and the room be- 
came a sepulchreal hush. 



T 39 



MAUDELLE. 



The family physician, (Dr. Brantly,) was next put on the 
stand, and corroborated the statement of Maudelle, rel- 
ative to the wounds of Morroe, and further said that just 
below the collar, on the fourth vertebra turn, was a birth 
mark, round in shape, red in color, and the size of a bird 
shot. Maudelle was again asked if the wound in the breast 
had left a scar ? She said the scar was still to be seen. 

The attorneys for the defendant asked that a committee 
of seven be appointed consisting of three ladies and four 
gentlemen, disinterested persons, who should take Maudelle 
to a room, and a search be made for the marks on her body. 
The committee went out — examined the girl and brought 
back the report, corroborating exactly as had been stated 
by Dr. Brantly and Maudelle. 

At this point all concerned agreed that the identity of the 
girl had been undoubtedly established, and it appeared 
that the last possible opposition was cleared away, and a 
verdict in her favor was assured. At least it looked that 
way to the spectators. But the lawyers for the plaintiff 
were not so sanguine, owing to the fact that they had still 
another lawyer to reckon with, who had been passive up 
to that point, and those who knew his tactics, felt all the 
more uneasy, that if he once rose to his feet to speak, he 
would say something damaging to the opposite side. This 
man was Col. Jefferson, the senior member of the firm of 
Jefferson and Stephens. Col. Jefferson was one of the 
most shrewd lawyers in the state. 

He never lost an opportunity to gain the advantage of 
every point in a suit, nor would he waste words on a worth- 
less proposition. Mr. Lawson knew that he could count on 
nothing as safe, until Mr. Jefferson had been disposed of. 

It was now night, and the judge said inasmuch as two 
days had been devoted to the case, that it would be neces- 
sary to hold a night session to finish, in order to clear the 
docket at that term of the court of other important cases. 

140 



MAUDELLE. 



An adjournment was taken until nine o'clock that night. 
When court re-convened the room was still packed with 
anxious spectators, who had followed the case for two days, 
and were willing to sacrifice a night's sleep to see the end. 

After some preliminary work of the court, Mr. Jefferson 
took the floor at ten o'clock. Profound silence pervaded 
the court room and the spectators leaned forward, eager 
to catch every word of the argument, which they knew 
would be the pivotal point on which the case would likely 
turn. 

After touching lightly upon the legal phases pro and con, 
he brought out very clearly the merits of the prominent 
points made by the attorney for the plaintiff. He evinced 
great sympathy for the girl in what she had suffered, and 
that she deserved all her attorneys asked for, but unfortu- 
nately for her, she could not reasonably expect that to which 
no right or title had been established. 

The jury hardly breathed, so close and earnest was their 
attention. He paid a high compliment to the father of the 
girl for having willed his vast estate to his daughter, but said 
that her father's wealth was a tantalizing phantom of the 
right to promise a blessing which could never be realized. 
He regretted, said he, "that the father of the girl did not 
protect her interest in time, and thus have saved her the 
embarrassment of an irreparable loss. 

"Such a precaution on the part of George Morroe would 
have been more compatible with his great learning and 
fatherly kindness, but," said he, "I want to say to the 
court and the jury to take cognizance of this fact in our 
state law, from which we cannot depart and be just to our- 
selves, and those for whom we legislate. 

"The law of our state does not recognize the child of a 
white father and colored mother as a legal heir to its father's 
property. Such a one born under these conditions is as 
much a slave as though both parents were slave negroes. 



141 



MAUDELLE. 



"The learned counsel for the plaintiff have made no ef- 
fort to show that the child or its mother were ever set free, 
and their silence is the best evidence on that point, that the 
two were slaves when he died. 

"Had the father of the girl manumited her before the draw- 
ing of his will the case might have been different, but the 
facts are that the freedom has come to her less than ten days 
ago, more than seven years too late, to be of momentary 
service to her in this case." 

There was an unmistakable feeling of sympathy for the 
girl, which ran through the patient assembly, whose at- 
tention was now turned to the jury who were receiving their 
instructions from the judge. The case went to the jury at 
ten minutes past eleven o'clock that night, and the judge said 
should they reach a verdict before morning he would con- 
vene court and receive it. A recess was then taken to await 
the actions of the twelve men who were intrusted with the 
fate of the patient, helpless little orphan. While the jury 
were out, passing on the merits and demerits of the case, 
there was another crisis rapidly culminating in another part 
of the town. Men could be seen with hats pulled down 
over their faces, and hurrying along down alleys and along 
the dark sides of the street, it was evident that some kind of 
a secret plot was in progress, and that the late hour of the 
night was chosen as the most proper time to cover the path- 
way to and from their crime. 

It was noticed that hundreds of horses were tied to fences 
and streets in dark places on the outer limits of the town, a 
tacit sign that the majority of the men were from the 
country. 

They all seemed to be heading for some point of concen- 
tration, which each one understood, because no one halted 
nor hesitated a moment, but pushed right along on his 
mission of bloody business, in doggish haste. Between 
twelve and one o'clock that night there merged from se- 



142 



MAUDELLE. 



elusion these three hundred men with feet and faces muf- 
fled, and filed into ranks of twos and marched away towards 
the center of the city without a word. 

When within a few blocks of the court house, they halted 
at the tap of bones, which seemed to be manipulated by 
an expert bone performer. Another tap, tap, tap, of the 
bones and the men fell into ranks of tens and marched off 
on a double quick in compact and phalanx — until within 
one block of the court house. 

Then came another sharp tap of the bones, and each 
man jerked a wicked looking pistol from his boot leg, and 
filed right and marched directly to the jail back of the court 
house, around which they formed a hollow square. 

The leader demanded the keys from the jailer, who at 
first refused, but on looking out on three hundred disguised 
irresponsible men, wisdom dictated acquiesence. 

The main door to the jail was unlocked and swung open. 
Next the doors to the cells to Sam Dobson and Jim Bowler 
were opened, and those two men stopped and shook hands 
with the leader of the mob, with whom a few whispered 
words were exchanged. Then the door of the cell of Jake 
Cobb, the negro, was opened, and he roughly dragged out, 
and his hands and feet were tied. 

Sam Dobson threw him to the ground — put one foot on 
his breast — bore his head backward and said, "You d — 
black devil, you betrayed us, did you? Now die like a 
dog," and with one vicious slash with a butcher's knife he 
cut the negro's head half off. 

Jake tried to cry out for mercy, but the word was cut in 
two with the keen knife, and only the half word "mer — 
was all ever registered on the pages of time. Although every 
vein and artery of the neck w r as severed, and the blood 
poured out like water from an open faucet, yet the poor 
victim died distressingly hard. 

The body rolled and floundered about like a badly butch- 



143 



MAUDELLS. 



ered animal. The air hissed and gurgled out and in 
through the severed wind-pipe, and spattered blood ten 
or fifteen feet in every direction. 

The body was found next morning as it had died, which 
presented a fearful sight. Sam Dobson and Jim Bowler 
were placed in a closely-covered carriage, and safely put 
beyond the reach of Kentucky's law before the day opened 
upon them. 

The mob marched away as quietly as they came, without 
so much as arousing a watch dog on their route. When 
the town awoke to the realization of the tragedy of the 
night, public sentiment seemed to run but one way, that 
attributive justice had been measured out to Jake, and the 
more fortunate white men were congratulated. 

At about the same time of night that the mob attacked 
the jail, the jury at the court house were passing on the case 
of Maudelle. When the jury filed into the room and handed 
their written verdict to the judge, and the judge in turn 
gave it to the clerk of the court, who read the paper aloud. 
When he came to the last words "We, the jury, one and 
all, come to a verdict in favor of the defendant," there 
was a murmur of disappointment which ran through the 
audience, as they rose to their feet and left the court room. 

On the next morning Mr. Lawson sat in his office with a 
gloomy, careworn expression depicted upon his face. The 
anxiety and tremendous taxation upon his nervous system 
for two days and a night had told the story of wasted energy. 

Had the case turned in his favor, that of itself would 
have bridged the mental void, and also have given a vig- 
orous and recuperative impulse to his flagging spirits. As 
Dr. Gillispie and Maudelle entered the room, he looked up 
and said, "Well doctor, all is lost. We have been driven 
to the wall and beaten in a fair contest." 

Dr. Gillispie planted his foot hard on the floor and said, 
"My dear sir, we will not acknowledge a defeat yet, but 



144 



MAUDELLE. 



name it only a truce, until we can martial our forces, then 
we will hoist our flag and march out again in the name of 
God. The verdict of this court is not the verdict of the 
court of heaven, and until that comes, my faith and hope 
will face the darkest hour that earth can invent. I will 
not believe that God has balked at this point, and we are 
left alone to work our way out of the entanglement. No, sir; 
there must be a way out. There were times also in my life, 
when I have been driven to the wall, and I thought as you 
do, that all was lost, but when I made the next step, a way 
opened, and what I thought was an impregnable wall 
was only a thin veil behind which shone the most brilliant 
day." 

"Your faith," said Mr. Lawson, " would be very valu- 
able on some other occasion, but law knows neither favor- 
ites nor subject of mercy, but its stern, rigid functions 
cannot be subverted, nor bent out of the course of equity, 
and still maintain its dignity as law. 

"It is very unfortunate that the Senator did not man- 
umit his child, long before he died, for on that point our 
case turned and was lost." 

It appeared that Maudelle woke to a fact which had lain 
dormant for seven years, and she said "Why, Mr. Lawson, 
don't you know that papa set me and mamma free when I 
was one year old, as my first birthday present?" 

"He may have told you so," said Mr. Lawson, "and in- 
deed no doubt intended to have done so, but I have never 
heard him mention it." 

Dr. Gillispie turned to Maudelle and said, "How do you 
know, Maudelle, he freed you and your mamma?" 

"Because," said she, "I have seen the free papers a great 
many times, and have heard mamma read them so much, 
that I know them by heart." 

By this time Mr. Lawson had become intensely interested 
and with brows knit together and head bent forward was 



i45 



MAUDELLE. 



gazing into Maudelle's face as though every word she spoke 
was worth a world. 

" Did you say that you remember what the paper contained 
and that you can recite the words?" said Mr. Lawson. 

"I can," said Maudelle. 

"Then do so," said Mr. Lawson, rather excitedly. 

Maudelle ran over a list of words as easy, and as rapidly 
as one counting his fingers. 

Mr. Lawson turned to Dr. Gillispie, and said, "Doctor, 
those are the exact words that are generally used in such 
a document." 

"By George, I believe there is something in it. I know 
there is," said Dr. Gillispie. 

"Now, my dear little girl, what became of those papers ?" 
said Mr. Lawson. 

"Why, don't you know that mamma sent you all the 
papers by your office boy the day before I was carried off ?'* 
said Maudelle. 

"Yes, I remember all that," said Mr. Lawson, "but I 
have no recollection of ever seeing such a paper as you de- 
scribe. The fact is, I did not examine any of the papers 
very closely after your mother's death, and we supposed 
you were dead also. In that event, I could do nothing but 
turn over to the court all papers, etc., as the will prescribed, 
and it may be possible the free papers were among them." 

"Suppose you did turn that paper over to the court, 
(which seems to me probable), what next?" said Dr. 
Gillispie. 

"To find them at any cost, if they still exist on earth," 
said Mr. Lawson. 

By this time Mr. Lawson's face was wearing an expres- 
sion of hope, and he said, "With this much information 
to start with, I can see some sign of daylight ahead. He 
sprang to his feet, put on his hat, and said, "Friends, re- 
main here until I return, it will take but a few minutes to 



146 



MAUDELLE. 



trace this matter to a close. The same old circuit clerk is 
still in the office, that was there fifteen years ago, and he 
knows where to find every paper as a man knows his fingers." 
This said, Mr. Lawson hurried off to the court house. 

"What good is another freedom, doctor?" inquired 
Maudelle. 

Dr. Gillispie laughed. "I suppose you think," said he, 
"that the freedom from Major Shafendore and the free- 
dom which Mr. Lawson is anxious to find, is more than you 
have any use for." 

"Does everybody have two freedoms?" said she. 

After joking with her for a while, Dr. Gillispie explained 
to her the importance of the papers about which Mr. Law- 
son was so anxious. Just then Mr. Lawson sprang into the 
room waving a document above his head, " My dear doctor," 
said he, "This is the flag that you advised hoisting and 
marching forward in the name of God. This is the doc- 
ument," said he, to Maudelle, "that will bring to you nearly 
a half million dollars." 

Mr. Lawson explained how the papers had been filed 
away among other papers, which he had turned over to the 
court seven years ago and had been forgotten. 

The papers were not only legally drawn, manumiting 
both mother and child, six years before Morroe's death, 
but were regularly recorded in the clerk's office. 

There was but this one short step to the final close of 
the case in litigation, to present the papers to the court, 
which furnished unimpeachable proof to Maudelle's heir- 
ship to the Morroe estate. This was done, and everything 
was turned over to Mr. Lawson — Maudelle's guardian, 
and she stepped from abject poverty to affluence and wealth. 

Mr. Lawson appointed Dr. Gillispie as Maudelle's pre- 
ceptor, in which every feasible plan of Senator Morroe for 
Maudelle's education, was to be carried out to the letter, 
regardless of cost. As the senator used to say, "No matter 



i47 



MAUDELLE. 



what it costs to train the heart, hands, and head, and if this 
is well done, reward will follow worthy achievements as 
certain as day follows night." 

Maudelle was willing to be advised by Dr. Gillispie and 
Mr. Lawson, except on one item, and on that no compromise 
could be made. That was not merely to see, but to help 
put her father's grave in decent condition. Notwithstanding 
Mr. Lawson had promised to have repairs made as she might 
suggest, but that was not enough. She seemed to have ma- 
tured plans of her own, which she was not willing to trust 
to anyone else. 

Her innocent, childlike affection for her father, and her 
earnest desire to do that little bit of kindness for him, was 
so laudable in the child that the two gentlemen acquiesced. 

"Well, George," said Dr. Gillispie, "when shall we go 
out to the old homestead to begin work?" 

"Tomorrow morning, if that will suit you and Mr. Law- 
son." 

"All right, tomorrow it is." 

"I will need a few things to work with," said she. 

"Very good, you shall have what you need, tell me what 
you want," said Dr. Gillispie. 

She took a paper from her pocket, on which she had a list 
of the following articles. 

A small shovel and large knife; a small hoe and hatchet 
a peck basket; three pounds of salt; a big, wide-brimmed 
hat; a water sprinkler and cheap dress. 

Dr. Gillispie and Mr. Lawson were greatly amused, but 
kept straight faces in her presence, and decided to ask her 
no questions nor to give any advice, but would wait until 
she had executed her plans. Her order for tools and ma- 
terial was filled. 

Next morning, Dr. Gillispie, Mr. Lawson and Maudelle 
were on their way to the Morroe plantation, followed by 
a wagon load of material for fence, etc., and workman. 



148 



MAUDELLE. 



Once on the ground, Maudelle took her tools, etc., and 
marched to the grave of her father, and with all the daring 
experience of a laborer, wielded the hatchet right and left, 
felling briers and bushes, and dragging them off. 

When the grave had been cleared, next she seized the 
hoe, and began digging down and pulling up the roots of 
briers and bushes and such as could not be pulled up, she 
cut off low in the earth and poured salt on them and cov- 
ered them up. The two gentlemen who stood off at some 
distance could not resist the temptation to ask her what 
reason she had for putting salt in the ground. 

"To kill those old roots that won't come up," said she. 

"How do you know that salt will kill a root?" said Mr. 
Lawson. 

"Why, salt will kill grass and I think it ought to kill 
roots, don't you think so ?" said she. 

"I expect so," said he. Turning to Dr. Gillispie said, 
"Well, sir, there is an idea worth remembering." 

After the grave had been all cleaned off, all trash, etc., — 
then her basket and shovel was brought into requisition. 
There was a mound cf earth perhaps two hundred feet 
from the graveyard. From this mound she shovelled 
and carried earth in the basket with which she filled the 
sunken grave and raised it eighteen or twenty inches from 
the ground, and made an oblong, three by seven feet. 

She would not hear to anything like rest, but perspired 
and tugged away the entire clay. The next day was to be 
spent in decorating the grave. With knife, shovel and 
basket, she went on a hunt for blue grass. She would cut 
out a square block of sod with the knife, shovel it out — 
place it carefully in the basket and wag it carefully to the 
grave — place it on carefully and go again without a minute's 
loss of time. 

When the grave was beautifully sodded, she planted 
a scion of a weeping willow at the foot, and then with 



149 



MAUDELLE. 



watering pot, she carried water from the spring at the 
house and gave the sod on the grave a "good drink" she 
said. 

Having finished she sat down to inspect the work. Dr. 
Gillispie and Mr. Lawson came to her, and congratulated 
her for having completed such an admirable piece of work, 
and asked her w T hat next. 

She drew from her pockec a drawing which represented 
a granite coping around a grave, upon which an iron crest- 
ing was fixed with a gate. Surprised at the genius dis- 
played in the drawing "Why, girl," said Dr. Gillispie, 
"who taught you how to draw, and when did you do all 
this?" 

"O, I did it about tw r o weeks ago," said she. 

"Two weeks ago, you say," said the doctor, who seemed 
to be greatly surprised that she had thought of the work so 
far ahead. "You little rogue," said he, "We have only 
been here about two weeks and at that, you must have 
worked out your plans as soon as we got here." 

She said she matured her plans as soon as she saw 
her father's grave in such a neglected condition, and that 
she was painfully and deeply impressed with a sense of 
duty, she owed her loving father, and that she made up 
her mind, that if it took the labor of all her life to buy 
the grave, she would give it. She said that she saw in a 
few minutes what kind of tools it would take to do the 
work. Said she saw how she could do the work herself, 
and it would be a great pleasure to her. And said she, "I 
have done it all myself, and I am so proud and happy that 
I have. 

"I know someone else might have done it much better, 
but no one could have been more willing, and no one in the 
world could have the reason I have for doing the work my- 
self — I will tell you why." She turned and pointed to- 
ward the old mansion which stood off a few hundred yards, 

150 



MAUDELLE. 



"In the library of that house, seven years ago, my father 
gave me his last advice, and among the many things he ad- 
vised, one was, never to ask anyone to do for me what I 
could conveniently do for myself." Pointing to the grave 
she said, "In this work I have obeyed him, but the stone 
and iron work I cannot do, so I will leave it for Mr. Lawson 
to have done. 

" Another thing he said 'Never forget, nor neglect to pray.' 
I have also obeyed him in this so far. But sometimes in 
New Orleans I have thought it was useless, then again I 
knew that my father was with God, and he would not let 
God forget me. Even when I was chased by the dogs, 
I prayed as I ran to the river to drown myself, rather than 
be killed by dogs, for I thought sure that my end had come, 
when I jumped in, but you see I am here at my old home, 
which you say is mine. I thank you Mr. Lawson, for get- 
ting it back for me, and I hope you will pay yourself well 
for your trouble. 

"I now want to promise my dear, dead papa in presence 
of you gentlemen, that I will keep every advice he gave me, 
just as long as I live, because I have come out all right by 
doing as he told me." She threw a kiss at the grave, say- 
ing, " Good-bye, dear, dear, papa," and with a wave of her 
hand towards the old mansion as a parting adieu, and said, 
"I am ready to go," thus turned and walked before the 
gentlemen to the carriage. 

"Do you know, doctor," said Mr. Lawson, "that Maud- 
elle is reasoning and thinking many years in advance of 
her age?" 

"Yes," said Dr. Gillispie, "she has the most business- 
like turn of mind, and the most far-reaching thoughts for 
one of her age I ever saw. I am proud of her. She is 
undoubtedly endowed with the elements of a great woman. 
I am truly glad it has fallen to my lot to direct her mental 
training." 



MAUDELLE. 



"I am sure that she will not disappoint you in your most 
sanguine hopes," said Mr. Lawson. 

An hour's drive brought them back to the city of H — , 
at two o'clock in the afternoon, and four hours and twenty 
minutes later, Dr. Gillispie and Maudelle took the train, 
and whirled away to Boston, Massachusetts. 



CHAPTER XV. 



BEGINNING A NEW LITE. 

The sudden transition from an abject condition of a 
helpless and hopeless slave, and from those cruel tortures 
of both body and mind, which are incident to human op- 
pression, up to a plane of absolute freedom, was a step so 
short, that to Maudelle, it was indeed more like a dream 
of the night, than a positive reality. It is not strange it 
should seem so, because she had been removed from a 
miserable little hut in the back yard of her owners, where 
she lived and slept on equality with dogs, and with which 
she shared the scraps from the table. 

Such a thing as a pleasant word — no matter how much or 
how well, her work was performed — was as rare as a snow 
storm in August. But now she had come to a house of re- 
finement and the protection of kind, loving friends, who 
had taken the responsibility to stand sponsor for her father in 
all that pertained to her well-being. When favors like these 
follow so close upon each other, it takes an evenly balanced 
mind to keep in harmony with such unexpected changes. 

But Maudelle was one of Nature's rare productions, 
which seemed to be in the right place at the right time, 
and had the faculty of doing things always compatible, 
with occasions and circumstances. She was modest, un- 
assuming, teachable and with a wonderful wealth of af- 
fection for the aged, to whom she was always polite and ready 
at all times to render willing obedience to them, in whatever 
was reasonable and right. 

Although she had given seven years of her young life 
in unrequited toil, cut off from books and intelligent social 

153 



MAUDELLE. 



contact, and the mental faculties allowed to sleep in the 
black night of mental ignorance for seven years, yet it was 
turned to her account for some good. What the head lost, 
the hands and heart gained, while the mental faculties were 
inactive, the hands were busy. She had learned every 
branch of housework which had developed her physical 
strength, and had given her the endurance of a spartan. 
In this she was an athlete of Nature's own make, trained 
in the house of bondage, placed there it seems by a hidden 
providential hand. 

She had lessons to learn preparatory to entering upon her 
great life's work. It is true she paid a painful price for 
her schooling, yet it could not be had otherwise. The in- 
formation to be had from text books and blackboard reci- 
tations, was not enough to square up and round off a woman 
for such an important work as God had reserved for the 
rare talents of a Maudelle Morroe. 

She was not only to hear the story and see the conditions 
of the suffering people, but she had to feel the keen sting 
of the lash, and suffer as they suffered, that she might know 
just where and how to apply her hands to the lever, and 
raise the people to their proper place, in the nation's com- 
monwealth. 

The wonderful ascent from the condition of the slave, 
and extreme poverty up to untrammelled freedom and great 
w r ealth, had in no way defaced the sweet disposition and 
modest bearing of Maudelle. 

She seemed to be carelessly unconscious of two things — 
her beauty and her great wealth, which to the public eye, 
these requisites are all the more a blessing, when the owner 
seems to have forgotten them. 

m When Dr. Gillispie and Maudelle reached Boston, after 
a tiresome two days' run, they were welcomed home by the 
affectionate benediction of Mrs. Gillispie. The doctor 
had sent a telegram ahead, fixing the hour when they would 



154 



MAUDELLE. 



arrive home with a fair run, and Mrs. Gillispie was more 
than anxious to see her foster-daughter. 

It was hard to tell which of the two were the more wel- 
come, Dr. Gillispie or Maudelle, when they were met at 
the door. 

"You dear, little, old, pretty thing, you," said Mrs. Gil- 
lispie, as she embraced Maudelle and pulled her into the 
house. 

"That is right," said Dr. Gillispie, "spoil her the first 
thing. ?; 

"I must spoil her just a little bit, since I have waited so 
long to see her," said Mrs. Gillispie, as she patted Maud- 
elle's cheeks. With her arm about her she conducted her 
to her rooms — showed her the bathroom and other con- 
veniences, and left her to herself. 

Maudelle was overwhelmed with the grandeur and rich- 
ness of her three apartments — bed-room, library and pri- 
vate parlor. She sat quiet for fifteen or twenty minutes in 
deep meditation , as though expecting every minute to wake 
up from a tantalizing delusion. 

But the beauty of the scene did not change, everything 
held its place as when she first saw them, and when her 
faith in their permanency became assured, she rose to her 
feet, went into the bathroom and quietly shut and locked the 
door. 

Here in this quiet seclusion, she went down upon her 
knees, and poured out her thanksgiving to God from her 
full innocent, childish heart. Here she told her last story 
of seven years of suffering to God, as a slave. Grief and 
privation had come to an end, and the blessings of a new 
life had begun. She offered Godfher soul as a sacrifice 
for the gift of freedom — 

"Yes," said she, "I am free. Free to'think, free to choose 
a vocation in life, free to make of myself all that God in- 
tended I should be, free to protect my character and name, 



I 55 



MAUDELLfe. 



and thus to do my part to establish a purer and higher 
standard of morals among the negroes than it is possible 
for a slave to do." 

Yet, as happy as Maudelle was, and as much as she had 
a right to be, there was still another strong, unbroken link 
of slavery which, if left alone, would be more dangerous 
in its reach than the worst kind of slavery. 

That was ignorance. Ignorance is dangerous, because 
it is contagious, and does not end with an individual, but 
touches and taints generations in its backward sweep down 
to posterity. It has no tangible thumb screws, no lash, 
no blood hounds, no auction block or sale stables, no 
bidders to buy, nor offers for sale. It inflicts no pain, and 
you hear no outcry for mercy, it is deathly still, while it is 
gnawing the very heart and soul out of its unsuspecting 
victims. 

The mind of Maudelle had to be freed from the grasp 
of ignorance — man's greatest enemy. The seven years of 
stern discipline of the mind had now to be inverted or trans- 
posed. Whereas ignorance was the safeguard to her slav- 
ery, intelligence must be made the safeguard to her 
freedom. 

Doctor and Mrs. Gillispie knew it would take the earnest, 
patient work of many months and years of diligent study, 
and the close attentive application of Maudelle, to work 
her way out of the intangling meshes of that hydra hell- 
commissioned enemy to human happiness. 

But she had the will to undertake the task, and that was 
the most essential thing to begin with. 

The first and most difficult thing for Maudelle to over- 
come was the temptation to address every white person 
as master or mistress, notwithstanding Mrs. Gillispie had 
seemingly exhausted all her motherly patience, trying to 
break up the habit, remould and fit Maudelle to her new 
condition. 

156 



MAUDELLE. 



Yet the habit had become so much of an interwoven 
part of her nature, that it could not be divorced from the 
rnind in so short a time. "I am a part of everything I 
meet," says Emerson. This was true in the case of Maud- 
elle 's seven years of bondage. 

Her daily contact with the owners w T hose authority was 
absolute, over mind and body, and even the soul of the 
slave w r as limited to a narrow sphere of development and 
intelligent expansion. The truth of God was bent and 
made subservient to the avaricious master. The ignorant 
slave was made to believe that the master was God's vice- 
gerent, and the only hope of eternal life for the slave was 
through a willing obedience to the dictatorial authority 
of every white face. 

" There you go again, with your missis," said Mrs. 
Gillispie to Maudelle, w T ho had forgotten her new relation 
to the Gillispie family, w T hom she had promised to address 
as mother and father. Maudelle covered her face with 
her hands, which reddened under the embarrassment of 
another broken obligation w r ith her foster-mother. 

The w r ord " Missis" had become as hateful to Maudelle 
as it was to Mrs. Gillispie, and she made another resolu- 
tion to crush it beneath her feet from that hour, and forbid 
it ever to rise again. 

To stand firm, she knew, she would have to throw off 
all timidity, and break through the wall of old environ- 
ments, and go to the kind, motherly proffered arms of Mrs. 
Gillispie for help. 

She rose to her feet without a moment's hesitation — u to 
hesitate is to be lost," stepped in front of Mrs. Gillispie 
with both hands extended, said, "You have called me 
daughter, and you have asked me to call you mother. I 
have been rather ashamed to do so, but from this hour I 
am your daughter, and you are my mother, if you are will- 
ing to have it so." Such an honest, open-hearted confes- 



157 



MAUDELLE. 



sion and unreserved resolution of the girl was so unexpected, 
that Mrs. Gillispie could only embrace Maudelle, and both 
were silent for several minutes. 

Mrs. Gillispie had seen the fourteen-year-old girl rise 
out of the cowering influence of oppression, and tower to 
the heights of the full interpretation of freedom. 

No doubt as the two hearts had been made empty by a 
stroke of death in the family of each, were now refilling with 
hope and love, like an empty flask sunk in a fountain of 
water, as the flask fills the air bubbles out. 

Maudelle had seen her father die, and with his death 
the beauties of the world faded out, and left in their place 
a dark, foreboding, blank background, with herself as a 
lone figure. 

Human bondage had added still another deadly blow to 
hope and happiness. Could her mother have been spared 
to her, the burden of life would have been shared between 
the two, but when they were separated, a mother's heart 
was broken down under the heavy load. 

But she seemed to feel that sorrow was at an end, and 
that all the loss of seven years of parental affection was 
being restored to her in the warm, personal love of Mrs. 
Gillispie. 

Nine years ago, Mrs. Gillispie had watched for three 
weeks at the bedside of a prostrated daughter. She had 
fought side by side with the physician against a stubborn, 
malignant fever, which was slowly but surely gnawing 
away her daughter's young life. The mother encouraged 
and cheered the girl, who was also fighting for her life, 
with the heroism of a little giant, but it was evident to the 
skilled eye of the medical scientist that the odds were too 
much against her vital energy, and that life was ebbing — 
quietly ebbing away. 

The doctor admitted their defeat, but Mrs. Gillispie 
true to a mother's trust, would not yield one inch of ground, 



MAUDELLE. 



as long as there was a pulsation of the heart visible, on which 
to stay her hope. 

Thus she hoped and prayed out of the sympathetic ful- 
ness of her bleeding heart, through the long, dreary hours 
of the night, until the end came. It was five o'clock on a 
September morning, when the soul stepped from its frail 
house and went home, and for nine years Mrs. Gillispie 
had waited for a favorable answer from heaven to her daily 
petition for some genial soul to fill the void made by the 
death of her daughter. 

Now that Maudelle had come to her, in her declining 
years, with all the hallowed affections which a child could 
have for its mother, was indeed an outward expression of 
heaven's benediction upon the two uniting souls. 

The heart of the foster-mother filled and overflowed, 
and broke out into sobs, not sobs of grief, which memory 
had brought back from the death bed as it had for nine 
years, but they were sobs beneath which was now to be 
buried the last woes of the wounded heart. 

These sacred tears were like the last drops of a pelting 
storm, just before the sun breaks through a thin place in 
the clouds and the sky is cleared. As tears will answer 
tears, and love answer love, when two hearts beat in un- 
ison, and two natures fuse under the warm influence of 
truth, Maudelle felt tears creeping down her face for which 
she could give no reason. 

We suppose, however, it was the effect of memory's 
last look — and joyful good-bye to the horrid picture of woe, 
filled out with its dilacerate, craggy points tipped with blood 
and black shadows which rose up from the empty dungeon 
of enslaved human souls. 

Mrs. Gillispie was first to speak. "My daughter it is 
all over now, my thoughts had gone back to the time when 
I had to give up my daughter Brunette. She was just 
about your age when she died. 



*59 



MAUDELLE. 



"O, how I have envied mothers whose daughters resem- 
bled her. I could hardly resist the temptation to take 
them in my arms and persuade myself they were mine." 

"Dear mother," said Maudelle, "I do wish I looked 
like her, so that I might.comfort you, and in that way help 
to make up your loss." 

"Indeed," said Mrs. Gillispie, "you resemble her very 
much. Your little old rosebud mouth is almost a per- 
fect prototype of hers." She playfully tapped Maudelle 
on the lips with her fingers, and kissed her several times. 
Maudelle was of the age when she needed the counsel of 
a mother, and she had come to Mrs. Gillispie just in time 
to find a warm and welcome sanctuary in the heart of that 
good woman. 

God in all His matchless wisdom, had created nothing 
so attractive, nothing so lovely, nothing for which a noble 
man will more readily die to protect, than a womanly woman. 

Maudelle, like other girls of her age, was near the danger 
line which lies between the girl entering her teens, and of 
the fully-developed woman. There are lessons of life to 
learn, which are full of apprehensions for the inexperienced 
and unsuspecting girl. 

The teens are the forks of the road where nature is to 
take another turn, where the finger-board points two ways, 
and unfortunately there are no engraven letters, or sign 
to indicate the kind and character of the metropolis to which 
they point. 

But woe unto her who, by mistake, takes the road which 
bends away to the left, which will, no doubt, be festooned 
with exquisitely tinted flowers, and mellow, golden fruit 
will lie along the pathway and intoxicate the soft, soothing 
atmosphere with its sweet, delicate fragrance. 

But there lies a green-headed poison adder, beneath 
every object, with fangs unsheathed, and neck arched for 
the deadly strike. 

1 60 



MAUDELLE. 



She who goes beyond the dead-line on the wrong road, 
and crosses the first bridge, it goes down at her heels — 
with a frightful crash, which means no return. Mrs. 
Gillispie explained all this, of which Maudelle was ignorant, 
yet she was confiding, trustworthy and teachable, thus the 
way w T as clear for a new life. 

No doubt, those who read this book will place only a 
fictitious valuation upon the story of Maudelle's life, but 
by no means is that a true version of the case. 

The fact is, there is no reason to resort to fiction, when 
there are thousands of authentic cases in the South, which 
are almost parallel with the one in hand. 

But as this subject will be brought forward again, and 
more fully discussed in its proper place, we will dismiss it 
for the present. 

"My daughter," said Mrs. Gillispie, "Your first battle 
has been fought and won, in that, that you have broken 
away from that childish timidity and you have addressed 
me as " mother," and the doctor as "papa." I have no 
language sufficiently strong and expressive with which to 
tell you how your words fell upon our ears and how deep 
they sank into our hearts. 

"In that w r ay, my dear daughter, you have put in motion 
again, an affectionate and responsive chord in our souls 
which has lain silent and untouched for nine years. 

"I feel now that I am going to live life over again, be- 
cause I cannot think of you other than my own daughter 
come back to me from the dead. 

"The doctor will insist on calling you 'George', because 
it was an assumed name of disguise in New Orleans ; as 
well as the first name of your father." 

"I rather like the name you and the doctor have selected 
for me," said the girl. 

"I am glad you do," said Mrs. Gillispie — "So that you 
see, we have in you a son and a daughter." 

161 



MAUDELLE. 



It was now toward the end of May, which had been 
about two months since Maudelle"; left New Orleans with 
Dr. Gillispie. During this time she had been idle, and kept 
constantly in silks, laces and fine jewelry, which was of 
course compatible with her financial status, but entirely 
distasteful to her notion of a useful life. However, she 
thought it was her duty to submit to the choice of her friends, 
rather than take the risk of offending them by dictating a 
course contrary to their wishes. 

But as her acquaintance with them had grown strong in 
affection, she felt safe to make a mere suggestion, which 
would lead up to a full discussion of the subject — " In- 
dustry." 

"My dear mother," said Maudelle, "When are you going 
to take me out of these fine things and let me go to work?" 
"Do you like to work?" said Mrs. Gillispie. 
"Indeed I do," said the girl. 

"What kind of work can you do?" said Mrs. Gillispie. 

"O, I can wash, iron, scrub, cook, or do any kind of 
housework," said she, whose face wore tokens of pleasure 
at the thought of breaking the monotony of idleness. 

"It is a nice thing to work," said Mrs. Gillispie, "espec- 
ially it is essential to know how to do all kinds of house- 
work in order to make a well-rounded woman, whose 
practical, experienced eye makes her a good judge of 
work when performed by those she employs. 

"But, my dear, I am of opinion that a sacrifice of seven 
years of such work, has given you as much information as 
you need, and I must tell you that we will have no more of 
that kind of work for you." 

Maudelle dropped her head with disappointment de- 
picted upon her face. No doubt she felt that after all, her 
life was to be a blank of miserable indolence. 

Of course Maudelle did not know that Mrs. Gillispie 
had made the disposition and bent of her mind a study for 

162 



MAUDELLE. 



several weeks, and the present discussion had evolved the 
conclusion. 

Had the girl been of a proud, haughty, and self-important 
disposition, the training would have to take a direction to 
meet and master that principle. The interview between 
Maudelle and her foster-mother was another pleasing and 
promising step in the direction of the beginning of a new 
life. 

Mrs. Gillispie put her arm around Maudelle. "O, you 
little goose/' said she, "Do you suppose there is nothing 
to do but wash and scrub and cook? Come, and let us 
go into the library and see papa, I believe he has some 
work for you." 

Of course the doctor and Mrs. Gillispie had matured 
plans for the training and other comforts of their ward, 
which were to be taken up and put into practice systemat- 
ically as it came to them. 

Her first mental training was to be conducted under a 
private teacher, so that the child should not enter school 
and be embarrassed by beginning so far back in the books 
at her age. 

But as the hot Summer months were so near at hand, 
it was planned to give her a much needed out-door exercise, 
and thus build up a strong, physical body and clear, vigor- 
ous mind. 

The lady teacher for Maudelle had already been em- 
ployed, and she was to be with the child a great deal dur- 
ing the Summer, in order to gain her affection, as well as 
to note the bent— susceptibility — and the endurance of 
her mind. 

These arrangements were made without the girl's knowl- 
edge, that her true self might come out without any reser- 
vation on her part. 

Even the out-door exercises and amusements were never 
mentioned until the one in hand had been mastered. 

163 



MAUDELLE. 



This was for the purpose that the entire force of the mind 
should be concentrated upon one thing at a time. The 
first thing on the list was boating, both sailing and rowing. 
Of course the family knew she would go through a spell of 
sea-sickness, but even this was not mentioned to her. Just 
here the w T riter would say — If the silly little goose had known 
as well as the writer, what it cost head and stomach to get 
on friendly terms with the sea, she would never have gone 
to sea. But if it teaches her in the outcome how to manage 
a boat as well as the writer, then she will be well paid for 
being violently turned inside outward. 

"Well, George," said Dr. Gillispie. "How would you 
like to be a sailor?" 

"What is a sailor, papa?" said she. 

"Why a sailor is one who learns to manage a boat on 
water," said the doctor. 

Maudelle skipped around on the floor and said, — "O, 
that will be so nice to drive a boat." 

All present were amused at her elation over the thought 
to "drive a boat," as she put it. 

Early next morning, lunch was packed for the day, and 
each one of the family was appropriately dressed for the 
sea voyage. Thirty minutes drive brought them to the 
family yacht, which lay at anchor in her harbor. 

Richard, the coachman was instructed to come for them 
at six o'clock in the evening. 

Maudelle was shown how to weight anchor, hoist, and 
set the sails. With her short, blue gown, coat, cap, and boots 
to the knees, she made a model little sailor, standing at 
the wheel with Dr. Gillispie. There was just breeze enough 
to give the water a roll inland, but as the proud yacht 
parted from shore under a more direct wind, the waves 
swelled up larger, the yacht gathered more speed as she 
dipped down deeper and rose higher to accommodate her- 
self to the motion of the water. 



164 



MAUDELLE. 



Maudelle looked back to shore, but there could be seen 
only a flat, gray line flush with the water, dotted with white 
spots, perhaps houses. She had let go of the wheel and was 
clutching the doctor with consternation upon her face. 

She was frightened hah to death, but ashamed to own it, 
since she had evinced so much pleasure at the start. She 
looked up at the doctor and said with choked voice, "Will 
this boat turn over?" 

"O, no, not while we are at the wheel," said he. 

"I am afraid it will strike a stone on the bottom, and tear 
up, because it goes down mighty low," said she. 

"No danger of that," said he, "because we are at least 
a quarter of a mile above the bottom." 

She was silent while her face took on an additional fright, 
and she was catching and swinging about Dr. Gillispie 
as the yacht dashed out into open sea — Mrs. Gillispie and 
Miss Bowen, the teacher, had gone below, but Maudelle 
was ashamed to leave her good friend to drown alone, as 
she expected would be their inevitable fate. 

By this time the sea-sickness was creeping upon her. 
The yacht stood off twenty miles from shore, and was doing 
a pretty piece of sailing. Maudelle looked again for land, 
but there was no land to be seen. 

"Why, papa, the land and houses have all sunk in the 
sea," said she, in great alarm. The doctor explained why 
it appeared so, but was not as she thought. 

She said nothing more but thought differently just the 
same. Her head had become so dizzy that she could no 
longer stand on her feet, but sat down on deck and held 
to the doctor's legs. 

Doctor Gillispie pulled the bell, and Mrs. Gillispie and 
Miss Bowen came on deck to care for Maudelle, whom 
they knew was going into a spell of wicked sea-sickness. 

But to persuade her to loose her hold of the doctor's legs, 
was out of the question altogether. 

165 



MAUDELLE. 



"No, no," said she "If I leave papa, this boat will turn 
over, and we will all be drowned. Let me stay here." 

Her lips were deathly pale, her head ached violently, 
she could no longer sit up, but lay flat on her stomach and 
held on to the doctor's leg with one hand, until finally she 
cried out, "O, I am so sick— so sick." 

The ladies took her up, held her head over the side of the 
boat, then for five or ten minutes any kind of death would 
have been preferable to her condition. 

After the stomach had given up all its contents, it appeared 
that nothing would do, but that it should come up itself 
and go overboard also. 

Maudelle was given restoratives and soon felt better, 
but she lay around on deck during the home run. 

Notwithstanding the yacht plunged and sported with 
the billows on her return, much more than she did on her 
way out, but to Maudelle it seemed that all fear of the up- 
setting of the boat disappeared with her spell of sea-sick- 
ness, and never annoyed her again. 

The rolling and ducking of the yacht, which alarmed her 
on the first day became a pleasure, to see the boat ride the 
waves with such exquisite grace and ease thereafter. 

By the following day the effect of sea -sickness had passed 
off, and left her weak, but with a wolfish appetite. 

The yacht sailing and boat rowing were kept up for 
several weeks, which Maudelle greatly enjoyed. 

Under the instructions of Dr. Gillispie, the girl soon 
became a wonderfully skilled little pilot at the wheel. She 
had learned all points of the compass, the distinction, char- 
acter and relative force of the wind, and how to give her 
yacht every advantage of wind and wave in order to get her 
best work. 

The next out-door exercise lined out for Maudelle was 
hunting. She had practised a great deal with the rifle and 
shotgun, under skilful instructors. But her shooting up 



166 



MAUDELLE. 



to the time had been limited to the inanimate target, which 
lacks the excitement found in the living, which puts its 
skill of dodging and flight against scientific markmanship. 

" George," said Dr. Gillispie, "we are going out to chal- 
lenge the wild ducks; how do you like that?" 

She danced around and shouted, u O papa, you are a 
grand, good papa. You think of so many nice things for 
me to do. I will be so glad to shoot a duck," said she, 
as she ran off to tell Mrs. Gillispie and insist on her going 
along. 

"No, my dear, I do not want to go," said she. "I am 
afraid of a gun, and I want you to be very, very careful. 
Guns are very dangerous things to fool with, Their mis- 
sion in this world is to kill, and they are not particular what 
they kill. The earth is full of dead men whose lives these 
treacherous things have taken." The old lady shuddered 
at the last word. 

Lunch and everything necessary was packed over night, 
and the coachman ordered to take the party to the lake at 
an early hour. Although Maudelle set the alarm clock 
for an early hour, yet she was up a half dozen times to see 
the time. At last the night wasted away, and the early 
breakfast over, before sunrise, Dr. Gillispie, Miss Bowen 
and Maudelle, dressed in hunting suits and with guns 
in hand, were skimming along in their boat upon the 
placid bosom of the lake and keeping a sharp lookout for 
game. 

Maudelle was so greatly excited w T ith the sport and so 
anxious to get the first shot, which she had been promised, 
that she attempted several times to fire when the game 
was away beyond the carrying power of her gun. 

But very soon the opportunity came unexpectedly. 
Three large ducks came dashing through "the fog, straight 
toward the boat, and within fifty yards of it, before Maud- 
e lie's keen eye discovered them. She sprang to her feet 

167 



MAUDELLE. 



threw the gun to her shoulder, and fired. She saw two 
ducks drop toward the w r ater, and before they reached it 
she was fighting the air with both hands to keep her feet, 
but backward she w T ent, and overboard, flat of her back, 
into the lake with a great splash. In the scramble the gun 
was thrown over her head, away out into the lake and for- 
ever lost. 

Maudelle was fished out and dragged into the boat with 
clothes, eyes and mouth dripping w r ith water. 

The accident happened by reason of a wrong position 
of the feet when she fired the gun. Instead of advancing 
the left foot and resting on the right — in this position the 
body is braced against a possible rebound of the gun — 
she forgot all this, and, in her hurry, placed both feet side 
by side, and when the rebound or push against the shoulder 
came, it caused her to step backward, which brought both 
heels against the side of the boat, the boat careened and 
she, losing her balance, fell into the lake. But a mistake 
of this kind never happened again. 

She did not wait to wipe the water from her face and 
eyes, but seized the oars, pulled the boat out and picked 
up her game over which she was so much elated as Dr. 
Gillispie said, "You are satisfied to have got the ducking, 
just so you got the ducks." 

On returning home in the afternoon, Maudelle insisted 
on cooking her game in her own way. "All right," said Mrs. 
Gillispie, "cook the game to suit your dear little self, and 
we will eat it if you can." She went into the kitchen, and 
while she prepared the ducks, chatted merrily with Mary, 
the cook, relating the events of the day's outing. 

Mrs. Gillispie and Miss Bowen stood outside peeping 
through the window blinds and were greatly amused at 
the changed appearance of Maudelle. She had borrowed 
an old dress and apron from the cook which she had pinned 
up to a suitable length, and moved about from place to place 



1 68 



MAUDELLE. 



as quickly and with as much ease and grace as a profes- 
sional French cook. 

"God bless my dear little old daughter, she will never 
know how much hold she has on my life. I do not believe 
I could live long without her," said Mrs. Gillispie. 

"I am very proud of Maudelle," said Miss Bowen, 
"and I feel I am going to have an apt and interesting pupil 
in her." 

The girl had chosen a style of roasting game which was 
entirely new to the family. 

When the family sat down to their six o'clock dinner, 
Dr. Gillispie, who always did the carving and serving meats, 
removed the dish of roast ducks and placed it before Maud- 
elle, with the remark, "She that can cook can carve," as 
a joking challenge. But when she took the knife and fork 
and without a moment's hesitation began parting the joints 
with such dexterity and scientific skill, the doctor gazed at 
her in astonishment, and badly beaten at his game of hav- 
ing fun at her expense said, "Good gracious, George, 
when did you learn to carve so nicely?" 

"In New Orleans," said she. 

"Why, gal, what is it you can not do?" 

She laughed, rather amused at the doctor who seemed 
to put so much stress on carving. 

"Why, papa, carving isn't anything much. Can't every- 
body carve?" said she. 

"No, not by a great deal. Carving is quite an art 
that must be learned. I thought I was going to have the 
fun of seeing you saw and hack the game and then give up 
the job, but you have beaten me at my own game. Now, 
my dear, I am going out of the carving business and leave 
it all to you after this." 

Maudelle's method of cooking game was to season, lard 
and closely wrap it in white paper and roast slowly to a 
light brown color. By this method the flavor was retained 



169 



MAUDELLE. 



which imparted to it an exquisite taste which could not be 
had by any other style of cooking. Not only game, but 
fish were treated in the same way. She taught the cook 
a great many new French tricks about cooking, and when 
those new dishes came to the table Dr. Gillispie would give 
the credit to Maudelle, but she was modest and unselfish, 
and would never own she had any hand in it unless 
cornered for an answer. 

It was now September, and the air was taking on a sharp, 
biting edge which made within doors quite comfortable 
with light fires morning and evening. The season for out- 
door sports, such as boating, fishing and hunting was draw- 
ing to a close, after which would come skating and 
sleighing and other winter exercises. 

But just now the most important thing at hand was to 
begin a thorough and systematic mental training for Maud- 
elle. Socially she had become indispensable to the Gillis- 
pie household. She loved them with a whole-hearted de- 
votion, and they loved her with all the tenderness possible 
for parents to feel for a child united to them by ties of con- 
sanguinity. 

Miss Bowen having been a companion of Maudelle dur- 
ing the Summer, had studied her taste and compass of mind, 
and was very sanguine of having a brilliant pupil in her. 



170 



CHAPTER XVII. 



A BATTLE WITH BOOKS. 

As Miss Julia Bowen and Maudelle promenaded in the 
spacious marble hall of the Gillispie mansion, with arms 
about each other's waist, they chatted merrily as though 
they swung in an orbit of hallowed affection all their own. 
This union of spirits and union of two hearts was the evolved 
product of an acquaintance and daily contact of three 
months. 

Miss Bowen was a most excellent lady of polish and re- 
finement, as well as one of Boston's ripe and well-rounded 
scholars of acknowledged ability. Her father was Captain 
Bowen of the ill-fated steamer M. H., which was wrecked 
on her way from Europe in mid-ocean. 

Captain Bowen stood at his post in the hour of danger, 
saved his passengers, but lost his own life. When the pas- 
sengers reached their several homes in this and other coun- 
tries, they evinced their gratitude by making up a purse 
for the captain's widow and daughter, which put them in 
easy circumstances, and the persistent industry of Miss 
Julia steadily added to their comfort. She had refused 
many enviable chances to marry men of fortune, but she 
would neither leave her mother, nor consent to add another 
person to the family, for fear it might, in some way, dis- 
comfort her mother. Hence she determined not to take 
the risk against so much doubt. 

Miss Julia had reached the age of thirty-three, just far 
enough away from the boundary line of girlhood, to be a 
delightful associate for men of sense and a safe guide for 
a girl in her teens. 



171 



MAUDELLE. 



She was rather a conservative optimist in principle. 
She recognized beauties in nature as providential neces- 
sities where others saw only frightful spectres, yet she was 
cognizant of a dark and light side to human nature, and 
knew how to harmonize her conduct to meet the various 
phases without unnecessary friction. 

Her well-balanced face and classic head, out of which 
looked a pair of sharp, penetrating blue eyes bespoke for 
her a vigorous mind of large calibre. 

No better choice as a teacher and companion for Maudelle 
could have been made, and no pupil could do more and 
better work to the credit of the teacher than Maudelle. 
Thus teacher and pupil, so well mated in matters of mutual 
interest and tender affection, was the best evidence for 
great achievement in the schoolroom. 

"Next Monday, my dear, we are going into books,'' 
said Miss Julia. 

"And I am very glad," said Maudelle. "I have been 
playing for six or seven months. I know I have learned 
a great deal for which I am very, very thankful, and now 
I am ready for any kind of book work you may be pleased 
to put me at. I am so anxious to know all about the world 
and what it contains, about the plants, animals, air, water, 
rocks and metals. I want to know about the stars and the 
sun and the moon and a lot of things I hear educated people 
talk about." 

Sure enough, the Monday to which Miss Bowen referred 
came, and Maudelle met it with a strong resolution to be- 
gin her uncomprising battle with books. The study of 
Dr. Gillispie had been fitted up with all the necessary ap- 
pliances for a private schoolroom. 

The girl had met and mastered all the out-door amuse- 
ments and games to which she had been introduced. But 
this was mere play as she wisely put it, which required no 
special draft on the mental faculties. These sports could 



172 



MAUDELLE. 



be learned or not, as tastes and fancy might dictate, without 
any serious loss to a useful womanhood. It is true, they 
were worth all they cost, inasmuch as they had contrib- 
uted a large quota to body building, as well as to strength- 
ening the mind and memory. But now the mind was to 
be disciplined and held under rule and trained to work by 
systematized plans of the schoolroom, not so rigid, of course, 
as those of a large school, yet just the same in a mild, epit- 
omized form. 

Some children show T a wonderful aptitude, in fact, real 
genius and a fine versatility of mental elements, so long 
as they are allowed unlimited play of latitude to choose 
and refuse kind and quality of work, but are idiotic when 
restrained under rule. 

Whether this would be true of Maudelle or not was not 
known, yet her teacher and foster-parents had implicit 
faith in her native ability, and a sanguine hope of a bril- 
liant outcome for the girl. But faith and hope are not 
tangible realities, and can not be expressed in outward 
form, nor demonstrated by any known process of figuration. 
Evidences from within are the only answer for anything 
else than that; we must wait until the end comes to human 
effort. Faith and hope are indeed very beautiful soul 
ideals, and really have pretty much to do with shaping one's 
destiny, in the two worlds. 

There is no God to one without faith and hope. The 
beyond is a dark, chaotic, shoreless ocean without top or 
bottom. Life to such a one has no meaning other than to 
eat, drink and die. 

There was some reason for doubt by those interested in 
Maudelle's case, from the fact that the girl had passed up 
to a line where the timid, dependent, obedient child-life 
with tender, flexible mind is dropped, and a more self-re- 
liant, dictatorial and persistent womanhood sets in. 

Could Maudelle be brought back seven years and then 



173 



MAUDELLE. 



carried safely over the ground again, without a fatal rup- 
ture and a wilful divorcement from the admonition of all 
parties concerned? Teacher and foster-parents believed 
otherwise, but they had no positive assurance to warrant 
such a belief, nor could they shake off the thought which 
had become serious, inasmuch as they had taken upon them- 
selves the responsibility of the dead parents, to train and 
polish the moral and mental nature of the orphan to a use- 
ful womanhood. 

It was to be expected that the girl would have some vo- 
lition and individuality, a kind of self-created motive power 
back of her placid nature, which can be called out when it 
is necessary to break up through the incrustations of im- 
position. On the morning of the beginning of her mental 
training, Maudelle was aglow with feverish excitement 
and intense eagerness for the trial of her faculties in the 
science of letters and figures. But could she, or would she 
keep up the interest, could she keep the mind's working 
faculties spurred up to their necessary tension for seven or 
eight years. 

The lessons assigned were few and simple; at first a half 
dozen figures were placed upon the black-board, and the 
pupil with nervous hand struck off the answer, and the 
great unfoldment of the mind had begun by a process of 
involution and evolution. 

The mental faculties had to be awakened to a concept 
of universal truth, as found in the broad domain of nature, 
by the aid of scientific appliances and patient effort of the 
teacher. 

Thus the life of Maudelle's inward mind and external 
matter had stood apart, on opposite sides of a deep chasm, 
but that chasm must be bridged and the two offsprings of 
God brought into a nearer relationship. 

Miss Bowen was turning on the searchlight of analytical 
reason by gentle degrees, and would increase the power 



174 



MAUDELLE. 



as the field of vision would broaden and the faculties would 
become more susceptible to greater endurance. 

The mind was not to be overfed or engorged, but left with 
a keen desire for more at the close of the work of each day. 

For the first two or three weeks it appeared that the girl's 
mind refused to lay hold on the lessons and absorb them 
with the readiness she desired. The frolicsome mind was 
like a young horse being broken to harness, it worked well 
at intervals, but could not be depended on for a full, un- 
broken day's service. 

However, these truant capers of the mind were all the 
more encouraging to her experienced teacher, but were 
very embarrassing to Maudelle. 

The difference between the opinion of pupil and teacher 
was this, the pupil did not know how to make allowance 
for the dormant, unused faculties in the new work at hand. 
But the teacher saw in that the best evidence of a suscep- 
tible, strong and stable mind, when properly directed, in 
the fact that it would not give up its seven years of accum- 
ulated ignorance without a formidable protest, but when 
once whipped into service could be depended upon to hold 
fast to its purer stock and store of knowledge. 

The teacher's translation of the meaning of the treach- 
erous, flagging mind was correct, as the close of the first 
quarter furnished ocular proof. 

Maudelle had not only recovered all lost ground, but 
had swept past the outpost of the most sanguine expecta- 
tion of her foster-parents. 

Her progress was so rapid, and her desire for knowl- 
edge so ravenous, that the teacher advised "Down brakes," 
on the runaway mind. 

"No, no," said Dr. Gillispie, "give her the right of way, 
and God speed." 

In the first place the girl was perfect in her physical 
make-up, then from the out-door exercise during the Sum- 

T 7S 



MAUDELLE. 



mer, the system had stored up a wonderful supply of en- 
ergy, of brawn and brain power, to draw on in case of emer- 
gency. 

Again, the schoolroom had by no means ended the out- 
door sports, it had only harmonized them with the lessons 
so that each had its respective time and place without in- 
jury to the other. 

It was now mid-winter, the active season for sleighing 
and skating was at hand, and one or the other was indulged 
in after the lesson ended for the day. 

Maudelle's trial at skating was pretty much like that 
of her experience of the first two or three weeks in the school- 
room, plus the falls and bruises. 

Her feet seemed to insist on exchanging positions with 
her head, and she was more often down flat upon her back 
than on her feet, notwithstanding Doctor Gillispie and Miss 
Bowen held her hands and pulled her along on the ice. 

She conceived the idea that she could use her hands as 
kind of balancing wings to better advantage than to be 
hooked onto her two friends. Maudelle had the faculty 
to never give up an undertaking. The more difficult the 
task to her it meant only more and harder work. 

"Papa," said she, "you and Miss Bowen let go my hands. 
I am going to learn to skate; that much is settled, and the 
sooner I learn to depend on myself the quicker I shall learn. 
If I fall and hurt myself pretty bad it will teach me the ne- 
cessity of standing on my feet. This ugly way of falling 
about, kicking up my feet before these people, must end to- 
day." 

"AH right, George, I like your spirit of self-reliance, but I 
really question the wisdom of your method of removing the 
props from between your head and the ice," said the doctor. 

She was released and went on her way, whirring around 
and flopping the air with her hands, flouncing and bobbing 
like a didapper preparing to dodge the shot of a gun. 



176 



MAUDELLE. 



Just at this time an old gentleman, whom everyone pres- 
ent seemed to know and admire for his affability and ready 
wit and humor, as he came spinning along and caught sight 
of Maudelle in her worst behavior, cried out, "That is 
right, my little chicken, fight for standing room; there is 
plenty of it up here, and you have as much right to it as 
anyone else. Keep up with the darn things and ride them 
just as fast as they choose to go. That is the way to do it. 
Lean forward a little more and aim to get there first." 

All in a moment Maudelle seemed to catch the spirit 
and meaning of her adviser and sailed off like a bird. The 
crowd shouted, "Hurrah for Captain Power's little 
chicken." 

Maudelle soon became an expert skater, and Captain 
Powers took great interest in teaching her some fine fancy 
tricks on the ice. The captain's daughter and Maudelle 
soon became faithful friends, and were of value to each other 
under trying circumstances further along in life. 

Nothing further worthy of mention happened during 
the Winter. At the end of the term in June, Maudelle 
had made two full grades without the least show of phys- 
ical or mental wear. 

While the family and friends were congratulating her 
on the excellent work in the schoolroom, she was fretting 
under the thought of having to lose the Summer in what 
she called "play." 

However she fell in line with the family in their out- 
door sports, and the Summer passed off pleasantly as had 
previous ones. But to the great surprise of the teacher, 
when the studies were resumed in the fall, it was discov- 
ered that the girl had made an extra grade, by studying 
at night after the family had retired. 

"You little black-eyed rogue!" said Dr. Gillispie, "you 
are going to kill yourself. Twelve round months in the 
year in text books is decidedly too much." 



177 



MAUDELLE. 



"Do you know, papa/'^said she, j" that I am getting to 
be an old girl? Others atjny age^are finishing their edu- 
cation while I am poking along .[snail-like behind them. 
You need have no fear that study will injure me, it is rather 
a rest for me; but to do nothing is my painful bete noire. 

"The fact is, I am anxious to get through school, and 
'Be about my Father's business'," said she, with as much 
earnestness and solemnity as a judge of a court. 

Said Miss Bowen to Dr. Gillispie, "Maudelle is a won- 
derful study to me. She has the rare faculty of taking in 
at a mere glance the whole of the most complicated problem 
or a prolix proposition in science and language. She very 
often demonstrates by a new and unknown process of her 
own that is really interesting and beautiful. There seems 
to be no limit to her mental grasp. With my long and 
varied experience in teaching I have never met with anyone 
whose mental depth I could not, in some way, discover 
except Maudelle, who is an unanswerable puzzle to me. ,, 

Said Doctor Gillispie, "I account for it in this way. The 
girl was born educated, and the work in the schoolroom 
to her is merely a pleasant pastime or a kind of playful 
review. She knew it all before birth, and now she needs 
only a hint and it comes to her memory without an effort 
on her part. There are cases on record of children who 
could read and demonstrate in mathematics as soon as they 
could talk, who never had any instruction. Maudelle came 
from a long line of eminent scholars, and she is the last of 
that line in whom there seems to be centered their superior 
mental calibre. 

"God and Nature have booked her for a prominent 
place in the front ranks of mankind, and she is going there, 
not so much from selfish choice, because she is modest, 
but she will go upward by the momentum of an intuitive, 
unconscious, indomitable will to master everything within 
her reach." 



178 



MAUDELLE. 



The private study was over, and the point to enter the 
High School was now reached, and Maudelle had been 
carefully and thoroughly fitted for the advanced work by 
Miss Bowen. 

She swept through the High School and completely 
mastered the studies and graduated at the head of her class 
with the same ease for which she was distinguished in every- 
thing else. 



179 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



ENTERING RADCLIFFE. 

Notwithstanding Maudelle had stood at the head and 
had carried away the first honor oi' her class in the High 
School, she seemed to doubt her ability to do so well at 
Radcliffe College. 

As the time drew near for the opening of the school, 
she was harrassed by a timid nervousness from which she 
could not free herself. Not that she had any particular 
dread of meeting the more rugged studies, and having to 
subscribe to more rigid rules of Radcliffe than those of the 
High School. 

But the thought which disturbed her was this, that she 
was to become one of the class currently known as "The 
Radcliffe Invincibles." 

Just how the class got its reputation is not known, whether 
it came by real merit or was only imaginary assumption, 
the effect was the same on Maudelle. 

She was fearful that it would be impossible for her to 
keep abreast with those students, and that she would be 
driven to that undesirable low status of a mediocre. 

The girl had a reputation for such excellent work in the 
schoolroom, the cost and value of which she fully realized, 
and the thought of having it all taken away from her, was 
indeed serious. 

Again, to fall back to the rear and thereby lose the con- 
fidence of friends and that long-cherished hope of finishing 
at least, in the front rank, if not at the head, were thoughts 
which in no way harmonized with her go-aheadative am- 
bition. 



1 80 



MAUDELLE. 



She had often seen a good many of those much-talked-of 
students, and she had been impressed with their seemingly 
superhuman appearance. Their broad, high, classical 
foreheads, out of which looked keen, penetrating eyes, 
from which flashed tokens of masterly genius that bade 
defiance to the best and strongest that dare come, were 
things to dread. Despite all effort to keep faith with the 
consciousness of her ability, Maudelle felt a sense of little- 
ness when in the presence of those Radcliffe students. 
Whether these observations of Maudelle were founded on 
facts, or were only ephemeral spectres grown out of a kind 
of free contribution of the public, could be answered more 
satisfactorily when she had become a working factor of 
a class among them. 

Maudelle took her place in the class and began to work. 
Now that she was into it, and the thing she so much dreaded 
had to be met in a hand-to-hand contest, embarrassment 
was thrust aside, and "on to success" was the all-absorbing 
thought. 

The work of a few weeks with the class, developed the 
fact that the Radcliffe students were only fallible human 
beings after all, and that they were as suceptible of mis- 
takes and failures as other people. 

True they were fine, hard workers, but by no means 
were they dangerous to one of Maudelle's ability and studi- 
ous habits. When this became apparent to her, she put 
the spurs to her ambition to vie with the best of them for 
an honor. Thus in a few months a beautiful, good-natured 
race for honors between Maudelle and six or eight others 
was in progress, and run within but a few fractions of each 
other. 

Finally the end of the school days, like the beginning, 
were separated by only a few hours. The snapping of 
fingers and the pointing out of the mistakes and weaknesses 
of fellow-classmates were at an end. The morning 



MAUDELLE. 



greetings and evening farewells for classmates and teachers 
were about over, and this composite class association, 
which had been pleasant and profitable, was now to resolve 
itself into separate individualities and to stamp their sep- 
arate impresses upon mankind for good or evil. 

Just here the thought of Emerson may be used to ad- 
vantage, "I am a part of all I meet," says he. I wish he 
had also said, "and everything is a part of me." This 
would have rounded off the scientific truth. In this sense 
one is hourly and minutely absorbing impressions of 
external objects, and at the same time one is continually 
giving off his inward influence and a part of his material 
self, to make up his part of other forms and characters of 
life. 

It may not be a fascinating thought to a beautiful lady, 
or a great man, when they are reminded that they are built 
up of horses, cows, dogs, cats, flies, worms, rotten meat 
and vegetables, as well as of every person they meet, whether 
dirty or clean, sick or well, sane or insane, black or white, 
saint or sinner. By this insensible, reciprocal process of 
involution and evolution the world is made what it is, or 
ever will be, by that invisible and perpetual automatic 
law of nature. We implore forgiveness for quitting the 
main subject and running off after "strange gods." 

The final examination of the senior class came, and 
Maudelle beat for first honor by only a small fraction. 
Strange to say, as hard as she had worked, she did not want 
first honor, but second or third place was as near as she 
cared to come. 

This was owing to the fact that she would have a start- 
ling revelation to make at the commencement exercises, 
a revelation which Dr. Gillispie and the faculty had advised 
her to hold in reserve until that time. 

She feared that when she had explained the mystery to 
the class and their friends she would be lowered in their 



182 



MAUDELLE. 



estimation, and the feeling would be more intensified by 
her prominence in the class. 

But the faculty put another version on the secret, and the 
class was satisfied with the result of a fair and impartial race. 

The papers of the speakers of the class were all that could 
be desired by parents and friends. 

Maudelle took for her subject, " Racial Possibilities." 
The elements composing her subject were judiciously 
chosen and artistically blended, and the subject was richly 
embellished with purest, original thought. Her rich, mel- 
low, musical voice filled the hall and accommodated itself 
to an audience of one thousand people, who w T ere enabled 
to catch every word without the least fatigue of ear. 

When she had seemingly about finished her essay, she 
paused, turned to the faculty and, after speaking in the 
highest praise for what they had done for her and her class- 
associates she threw her manuscript into her seat and stood 
motionless for a few seconds. 

The one thousand people became deathly still, struck by 
such strange and unusual proceedings. 

She heard a whisper, "She has forgotten her speech." 

"No," said she "ladies and gentlemen, I have not for- 
gotten any part of the speech I am now to deliver. To for- 
get that would be to forget my existence, because it began 
with my life and must end with it. 

"What I am now going to say would have been said at 
the time I entered school but for the advice of good friends 
of vast experience and matured wisdom. 

"Friends and class-associates, having reached the end 
of our scholastic association, which has been both pleasant 
and profitable to me, it now becomes my duty to more fully 
introduce myself to you before we part. It may be I shall 
lose your love and friendship by the introduction, but I 
shall not lose your respect, if w T e value truth and fidelity 
as cardinal principles of virtue. 

183 



MAUDELLE. 



"I am so sensitively averse to anything like hypocrisy 
that I have lived for years under painful, guarded restraint, 
while I have waited for this opportunity to free my mind 
and be at ease. 

"It has come, and I am truly glad, although it is- a fam- 
ily affair of the most delicate nature, yet you shall know 
it come what may. 

"My father, now dead, was Senator George Morroe, of 

Kentucky, a relative of President of the United 

States. 

"Senator Morroe was a student and first-honor graduate 
of the grand old school of Harvard, and I am told that many 
of the faculty are still there and at their post of duty, who 
shaped and personally conducted his education as Radcliffe 
has that of his grateful daughter. 

"Those who knew Senator Morroe will no doubt join 
me in saying that as a man of talent, and a statesman who 
loved and labored for his country, he had no superiors. 

"As a father and a Christian gentleman he was one of 
the best men of the South, living or dead. 

"My mother, also dead, was an octoroon, whose personal 
charms were her misfortune and the cause of her only 
sin, I say sin, if such a condition could be a sin for her 
when under the control of one whose authority was 
absolute, in right of his color, and an established law of the 
South, in which the other sections of the country quietly 
acquiesced. 

"She was a model woman and a loving mother, of gentle 
disposition, and a devout servant of God — and heaven 
only knows what else she might have been, had the insti- 
tution of slavery left her free to have made her own choice 
in life. 

"But since it is thus, I shall try to find some comfort 
in the thought, that our Heavenly Father allowed the help- 
less condition of my mother and the conduct of my father 



184 



MAUDELLE. 



for some wise purpose, the meaning of which may yet be sat- 
isfactorily translated by what each individual life of those 
concerned shall evolve. 

" Since I am the only representative of the two, I promise 
my teachers and friends, it shall be the earnest and uncom- 
promising endeavor of my life to redeem the names of my 
parents by living a correct, chaste and upright life myself, 
cost what it may. " (The audience went wild with applause.) 

" Human events come and pass so rapidly and with so 
many varied changes, that I am quite sure," continued she, 
'this will be the last meeting for many of us in this world. 

"From this hall our pathways will lead into different 
directions, many of which may not intersect again nor 
bring us within speaking distance until they converge to 
a final point in the beyond. 

"My life's work will be in the South, among the recently 
emancipated negroes, who are left as dependent, homeless 
and friendless relics of the war, standing half-way between 
freedom and slavery and without the protection of law or 
master. 

"We congratulate our good fortune to have ended the 
Civil War with the Union still intact, but out of the Civil 
War has evolved a second war, which will last for centuries. 
I mean that war to be waged against ignorance, supersti- 
tion, caste, hatred, and abject poverty. 

"In the Civil War almost every household brought for- 
ward a sacrifice in the person of a father, husband, brother, 
or last son. The offering was accepted, prepared and slain 
by the government, and to hundreds of thousands of door 
knobs were tied the black signal of death, as a token of the 
people's willing subordination to authority. 

"In this war against ignorance there will be no hot blast 
from the cannon, no heavy wheels of war armaments to 
roll over and crush hearts, homes and treasures. There 
shall be no bloodshed, no coffins, no graveyards, nor head- 

185 



MAUDELLE. 



stones to mark the fallen victim with sword or gun in hand. 
But the war against ignorance will be a silent, uncompro- 
mising war waged with the invincible pen and text book. 
The great and good man, Abraham Lincoln, will always 
live in the memory of the American people. But the great- 
est work which Mr. Lincoln did, was, that he has made it 
possible for us who will, to do more for the negro than he 
did. To proclaim a people free, when backed by Congress, 
the army and navy, and seventy years' growth and crys- 
talized public sentiment, which had been created by pen 
and speech of the abolitionists, left but the work of an 
hour for Mr. Lincoln." (The house shook with applause.) 
"It would be neither wise nor humane," continued she, 
"to sacrifice millions of money and human lives, and then 
quit the field with a cause but half won. Four million in- 
experienced, uncultured, irresponsible human beings let 
loose upon society, with a natural inclination to strike back 
in the dark with the hand of long-cherished revenge, will 
become more dangerous than if met in open daylight with 
equal arms. 

"The negro must be educated. He must know his duty 
to God, to mankind and to the government of his country. 
When he once knows these requirements, I believe he will 
be true to them. The animal in the ignorant negro, like 
that in the same grade of white men, must be restrained 
and subdued. Reason must reign king of the immortal 
mind, and love, justice and mercy queen of the heart and 
conscience. 

"My friends inform me that my chosen field of labor is 
beset with dangers on every side, but danger cannot deter 
me when I am assured that God leads. In three months 
from the present I hope to be on the ground and actively 
at work among the freedmen. 

"My good father has put into my hands his entire pos- 
sessions, and I am to use whatever portion I choose for the 



t86 



MAUDELLE. 



education and otherwise betterment of the condition of 
the colored people. 

"I shall go South specifically to do my part in bringing 
the negro to his proper place in this great commonwealth, 
and also to assist the entire people of the South to gather 
up and readjust the scattered fragments of more than two 
centuries of economical acquisition. 

"My teachers, classmates, and friends, I take this oc- 
casion to say good-bye. I go from you to fill a promise 
made to my father when I was but seven years old. I go, 
as he then advised me, to do my duty and trust God for 
results. 

"Farewell, but whenever you welcome the hour, 
That wakens the songs of love in your bower, 
Think of the friends that once welcomed them too 
And forgot her own griefs to be happy with you. 
Now her griefs may return, not a hope may remain 
Of you who have brightened her pathway of pain. 
But wherever my path lies, be it gloomy or bright, 
My soul, dear friends, shall be with you that night, 
Shall join in your revels, your sports and wiles, 
And return to me beaming all over with smiles. 
Too blessed, if they tell me, amid the gay cheer, 
Some voice had murmured, T wish she was here.' " 

With a polite bow she left the stage amid a prolonged 
shout of applause. 

People thronged upon the platform to shake the hand 
of the girl who was to be either a martyr or a heroine. 



i8 7 



CHAPTER XIX, 



NO hope 

Now that Mauaelle had finished her education, and had 
made an open declaration of her identity with the colored 
race, she felt at liberty to throw off all reserve and live her 
true self. 

Among her acquaintances were several young gentlemen 
who showed particular preference for her company, but 
whenever their attention assumed a phase of serious de- 
votion she never hesitated a minute to warn them of their 
mistake. Sometimes this had the effect she desired, but 
more often it did not, and she was put to the necessity of 
being emphatic. 

Her several attractions were willingly recognized, respected 
and courteously bowed to. She was rich, talented, beautiful 
and morally pure. 

Among the gentlemen who could not be frightened 
off by her claim to colored blood, was Mr. Thomas 
Crondell. 

Crondell was also very wealthy, talented and handsome. 
For a year or more he had pressed Maudelle hard for her 
hand as a partner for life. 

Now that she would leave Boston soon and go South, 
he determined to lose no time in his efforts to win her. 

No doubt Mr. Crondell thought his case would be like 
that of others one so often hears of, " Marry a man to get 
rid of him." 

Crondell fully explained^ his intentions to his parents 
and they acquiesced to please him, yet they did not take 

188 



MAUDELLE. 



well to the idea at first, especially his mother, who made 
a strong protest, until all argument and even tears not only 
failed but seemed to intensify his affection for Maudelle. 
His mother saw it would be unwise to push her objections 
further, thus she yielded to his choice. 

As Crondell stood before the mirror in his room, dress- 
ing his hair and curling his mustache, touching his eyebrows 
with a coloring pencil and besprinkling himself with costly 
perfume, his friend, Frank Wellington, sat with a smile 
on his face watching him primp. 

"For heaven's sake, Tom," said he, "are you not hand- 
some enough without all that darn foolishness? You are 
worse than an old maid drought stricken." 

"Perhaps, Frank," said Crondell, "you have never 
thought that external appearance is about the only virtue 
I have. If I could ever find time to begin the work of ref- 
ormation which you are continually preaching to me, I 
should not need these confounded deceptive charms. After 
all I am not such a bad fellow, am I ?" 

"No," said Wellington, "you are a pretty good boy, 
taking all in all. If you could govern that temper of yours 
and stay away from the barroom, that is about all." 

"I often thank God that I am no worse than I am, be- 
cause few boys have had a better chance to be bad than I 
have had. The only child of my parents, with an abundance 
of money to waste as I please, to go where I choose, and with 
whom I choose," said he. 

"I suppose you have been guided by those innate prin- 
ciples transmitted through the excellent blood of your an- 
cestors," said Frank. 

"I have but little faith in the theory of hereditary virtue. 
But I will promise you one thing Frank, just as soon as I 
have secured the heart and hand of Maudelle, I will make 
that very hour the beginning of a new and better life," 
said Crondell. 

189 



MAUDELLE 



"It seems to me," said Frank, "that if I had the command 
of as much money as you have, I'd be switched if I would 
coax any girl to love me." 

"To h — with the money," said Tom, as he nervously 
drew on his gloves. "I never earned a dollar in all my life, 
and what do I know or care about the value of a dollar. 
Money is, or at least should be, the equal exchange for honest 
labor, and the one who has not in some legitimate pursuit 
expended his energy for his money, is no better than a thief. 
There are thousands of young fellows like myself, licensed 
thieves, to eat, drink, dress and spend money that their 
fathers have wrung from the blistered hands of poor devils, 
who dig and sweat twelve months in the year for us, while 
their half -starved and nude children dispute with the dogs 
for rotten meat in our swill tubs. 

"I surmise hell will be so full of our rich old daddies, 
that their feet will be sticking out at the windows." 

"But I believe there is one remarkable difference between 
you and many other young men," said Frank Wellington. 

"In what respect?" said Tom. 

"Why," said Frank, "you are always giving away money 
and other assistance to the poor." 

"Do you know," said Tom, "I don't do half that I want 
to do, were it not for my father. I have often thought 
that when I shall come into possession of the old man's 
wealth, I will load a two-horse wagon with silver dollars, 
and have all the young ones in Boston follow me to the 
Commons, and there throw it out by the shovelful and see 
them scramble for it like hungry ducks," said Tom. "By 
George!" said he, looking at his watch, "it is seven o'clock." 

"Yes," said Frank, "it is calling time and Maudelle is 
looking for you." 

At the mention of Maudelle's name, Tom's face put on 
a pleased expression, and he gave his mustache an addi- 
tional twist. 



190 



MAUDELLE. 



"Tom, how are you going to dispose of Miss Georgie 
Powers?" said Frank. 

"O, I don't know, unless she will die to accommodate 
me," said he. "She is an excellent girl, Frank, but Maudelle 
suits me better. Maudelle is such an independent, daring 
and industrious little cuss. There is no painting, nor pow- 
dering, nor tight lacing about her. She is a plain, Christian 
girl that everybody loves, and why not I?" 

"To-night I have determined to win her. I will have no 
more vacillation, no deferring and keeping me in suspense. 
I hate suspense; moreover the little fool is preparing to go 
South, I must put a stop to that." 

This said, he bade Frank good night and was gone. 

In the richly-furnished drawing room, in the beautiful 
residence of Dr. Gillispie, facing each other, sat Thomas 
Crondell and Miss Maudelle Morroe. Never was there a 
more handsome and cultured pair of young people than they. 
They were not only well matched in external appearance, 
but were equally matched in mental accomplishments as 
well as financial standing. 

Both natures were made of that material which, when 
once drawn to an edge, cut both ways unsparingly. The 
characteristics of the two were evenly balanced for anything 
like a union of their two souls for life. 

For more than a year Crondell had given himself exclu- 
sively to the attention of Maudelle. She admired 
him for his intelligence. He came of an excellent family, 
but like most young men , was sowing a crop of wild 
oats. 

Now that Maudelle had graduated and made public 
what she had often told him in private, he loved her all the 
more for her open, frank acknowledgment of the relation 
she sustained to the colored people. 

"Miss Maudelle, have you fixed upon the day you will 
eave Boston for the South?" said Crondell. 

191 



MAUDELLE. 



"My intention is to be away in a few weeks/' said Maud- 
elle. 

"Then you are bent on going, I suppose?" said he. 

"Yes. It will be the pleasure of my life to labor among 
the freedmen, and exert my personal influence in their 
homes as well as their schools," said she. 

"It is a fearful leap, my dear girl, from the high and 
cultured society in Boston, to that low strata of super- 
stitious ignorance among the negroes," said Crondell. 

"That is the reason why I am all the more anxious to go, 
when I think of the four million ignorant people, ushered 
into citizenship without time for an hour's preparation to 
meet the responsibilities incumbent upon them, I am im- 
patient and anxious to haste to their rescue without a 
minute's delay." 

"Maudelle, it must not be, you must not go, I cannot, 
I will not live without you. If there is a stronger word 
than . the word love to convey my emotions, I feel that ten 
thousand times for you. Although you have given me but 
little encouragement, yet I still have a thread of hope while 
you are near me," said he. 

"My going South need not necessarily break our friend- 
ship," said Maudelle. 

"Friendship — friendship is but a cold, common virtue. 
Better a thousand times we never had met, than to have 
met, loved and parted thus as friends only. I have friends 
by the score, and to spare; but if I lose you, my dear Maud- 
elle, I lose all I love in the world; and an angel could not 
take your place in my affections. Maudelle, will you be 
more than a mere friend, will you be my loving wife?" 
said Crondell, excitedly. 

Maudelle wrote these words and handed them to him: — 

Let us in honest hearts agree, 
That friends are all we can ever be. 



192 



MAUDELLE. 



Crondell read the lines, dropped the slip of paper on the 
floor, bit his lips, and said, "Then these lines are your 
final answer, and you dismiss me with the saddest of all 
words known to mortals, no hope? When hope is gone, 
Maudelle, life has no value, earth no charms, and the soul 
is disrobed of every incentive to press its claim for the prom- 
ised reward to the pure and upright in heart. Will you 
reduce me to this ? Have you ever thought, or do you care 
to think how much the well-being of all I can ever be in 
this life, or hope of happiness in eternity, depends on a 
favorable answer to my proposal ? 

I'i ' 1 Think of that, dearest, and also call to mind how you 
have so often tried to argue me into your way of believing 
in the mercy and goodness of God?" 

"Can you report favorable progress?" said Maudelle, 
with an inquisitive smile. 

"I do not know that I can report anything very com- 
mendable of myself, more than that I find myself growing 
steadily and surely into your way of belief from the love I 
bear you. I am learning to love all that you love, and of 
course, take an especial interest in all that concerns you," 
said he. 

"But," said Maudelle, "ought not real, genuine manhood 
fix its own standard of right, because it is right, and not 
merely to please those it loves ? Is there not some danger 
of apostatizing when our faith rests only on the affection 
we feel for some one person?" 

"Perhaps," said Crondell, "that is the better way; 
but you will agree that to love naturally makes one 
morally better, as well as strengthens one's faith in God and 
religion." 

"Yes," said Maudelle, "I agree that every step toward 
a religious reformation is much better than none at all; 
but when it comes only by the way of the affection we have 
for some preferred individual, we shall find that selfishness 



MAUDELLE. 



has increased to such an extent that we are in danger of 
being worse sinners than we were at first." 

"Love, my dear girl," said Crondell, "instead of making 
one selfish has the opposite effect. It makes the heart 
tender, open and generous. It has been thus with me 
since I have loved you. Your influence over me is wonder- 
ful, wonderful in the fact that I have been a philanthropist, 
wherein I used to be hard and clo?e with my means, now 
I am liberal. If I can be near you, I shall no doubt become 
a useful man." 

"But," said Maudelle, "do you not see that love makes 
one selfish, and all the influence you speak of goes for noth- 
ing when it is apparent that love will not answer some self- 
ish end ?" 

"It takes so much to make a saint, I fear I shall never be 
one," said Crondell. 

"It does not require the time to be a Christian that it 
does to be proficient in your profession," said Maudelle. 

"Perhaps not," said Crondell, "but I do not believe I 
can succeed so well in Christianity as I can in medicine. 

"But that innocent, dove-like girl piety should not be 
expected of a man, because he has to fight the stern real- 
ities of the world, while she has only to take the spoils and 
appropriate them." 

"Society ought to expect and even demand that but one 
and the same code of moral ethics should govern both 
sexes. Until society agrees upon this course young men 
cannot be altogether responsible for 'sowing their wild oats/ 
If mothers who spend sleepless nights watching at the 
window for the return of their wayward sons, would com- 
bine and establish this ruling, and not depart from it, they 
would add comfort to their homes and years to their old 
age," said Maudelle. 

"In your code of morals," said Crondell, "I suppose 
you would make it obligatory on young men of good 



194 



MAUDELLE. 



standing, to be religious churchgoers and keepers of long 
Sunday faces?" 

"No," said Maudelle, "when once an unblemished moral 
character is firmly established, one may be safely left to 
make his own choice as to where and how he will spend 
eternity. Not that morality is religion, but it is an essential 
element, and the two are separated only by one short step." 

"Would not so rigid a social law cost one more than the 
real benefit to be derived is worth?" said Crondell. 

"I think not," said Maudelle, "but I suppose young 
men of to-day who are living a different life, would think 
so when forced to subscribe to the rule." 

"You are a great philosopher, Maudelle," said Crondell, 
with a show of impatience that the subject on which he set 
out had taken a different turn, and in order to renew it, 
he said: 

"Your philosophy brings me to this thought, and I ap- 
peal to you for information. You tell me it is God's will 
that his children, I mean his obedient children, should 
be happy." 

"That is true," said Maudelle, "Not only those who 
believe and try to serve Him, but it is His will that every 
creature should be happy." 

"But those who are faithful are promised mercies and 
blessings, while the ungodly, it is said, 'Shall not live out 
half their days.' Again it is said by a great Bible character, 
David, I believe, T shall be satisfied when I awake in Thy 
likeness.' I suppose in order to awake in the likeness of 
God, we must live and grow in grace, mercy and goodness 
of God. Is that correct?" said Crondell. 

"It is," said Maudelle. M 

"Then, my dear Maudelle," said he, "ought not a faith- 
ful child and firm believer in God possess those beneficent 
attributes of God? Can a child, loved and loving, differ 
so widely from its father?" 



i9S 



MAUDELLE 



" Perhaps the greatest desire of the human heart is to 
be happy, I mean happiness in this life and the next, and 
I believe the one who would willingly rob us of our chance 
to be happy, commits an offence against God and man for 
which he must answer," said Maudelle. 

"That is the point, exactly," said Crondell, while his eyes 
sparkled with the satisfaction of having reached a point 
wherein his argument could be made unanswerable. 

"Now, Maudelle," said he, "since you are a firm believer 
in the mercies and goodness of God, how can you mete 
out disappointment and misery to me when you are 
happy? I should be happy, too, and you have the power 
to make me thus, certainly, my own Maudelle, you will 
not be less kind than He Whom you so faithfully imitate 
in everything else, and in Whom you would have me 
believe." 

"I have had nothing but the kindest solicitude for your 
well-being and all the unhappiness commensurate with a 
well-rounded life, and under no circumstance should I 
place the least obstruction between you and the realization 
of your fondest hopes," said she. 

He drew his chair near her, took her hand in his and with 
a gentle pressure said: 

"My dear Maudelle, this is not the first time I have made 
a full and truthful avowal of my affection for you. Do I 
not deserve some token of your love for me? Give me a 
proof of your love by giving me your hand and heart, 
and I promise you to love you, and all that you love with all 
my soul, and this hour shall be the beginning of an entirely 
new life wholly devoted to you and your Saviour." He 
drew her toward him as though he would kiss her, but she 
drew back and said: 

"Mr. Crondell, I cannot allow such liberties. I have 
great respect for you, I value your friendship, I admire you 
as an upright man, but such proof as you have attempted 



196 



MAUDELLE. 



to give of your affection, a gift of ourselves to each other, 
is a step too far, unless our affections were mutual." 

He felt the repulse keenly, but took it kindly. 

"Dear Maudelle," said he, "I thought I had ever}' reason 
to believe that our affections were mutual, and that I had 
the right to manifest my love by a kiss, the most tender and 
sacred tie known to mortals. 

"Do you really dislike me? Who has cruelly supplanted 
me? Who has driven me from your heart? Who has 
divorced and exiled me from the ''heart that I thought was 
all my own?' " 

"No one has supplanted you, no one has driven you from 
my heart. You know that I have plans for the future which 
makes all thought of marrying a secondary matter," said 
Maudelle. 

"Maudelle, dear, only tell me that you love me, and I 
will wait three, five or ten years for you to become my legal 
wife; just so I have something to look forward to, something 
that can cheer me with the fond hope that the end will 
come sometime. Maudelle, I would rather see the sun 
disappear from the sky, the flowers from the earth, and 
sweet-singing birds from the groves than to have you go 
from me." 

As face answers to face in a mirror, so the truth of two 
sympathetic hearts readily responds to the truth of each 
other. 

Crondell truly loved Maudelle, and she felt as sensibly 
as one feels the blaze of an August sun at noonday. Every 
emotion of her soul pressed hard for an open demonstra- 
tion of her affection for him and to make the equal exchange 
of love for love with the man who she felt was worthy of 
all the love she had to give. 

Crondell was ignorant of the struggle which was going 
on in the breast of that little womanly woman, who was a 
just dealer in all matters pertaining to the good of others. 



197 



MAUDELLE. 



Had Crondell been a mind reader, he would have seen 
her mind balancing the affection she felt for him, her res- 
olution to go South, live and work among the negroes, 
and the obligation of her childhood to another. 

Had he pressed his suit just at that moment, he would 
have won her all to himself, for decision was poising on 
the pivot of a few fleeting moments, and the difference of 
a hair's weight would have changed the result in his favor. 
The moments passed, the struggle was over, and such an 
opportunity never came again. The woman, who might 
have been enlisted with him for life, stepped across the 
breach which widened into an impassable gulf between 
them that was never again bridged. 

"Mr. Crondell," said she, "I must not think of marrying. 
After having devoted nine years to study, I now want ab- 
solute freedom. I am not willing to bind myself to the 
obligations of a married life, at least until I have had time 
to discover my adaptability to such service, for I don't 
believe that sentiment should have any place in a conjugal 
contract which is to stand the test of a lifetime." 

"My dear Maudelle," said he, "when one has reached 
his majority he feels the need of a home. The home in 
which he was born, of course, is pleasant, where the par- 
ents provide, protect and love him; but the young man or 
woman can never go beyond the bounds of a mere subor- 
dinate child to his parents. I want a wife — a woman to 
be absolute sovereign of a home of our own choice, around 
which may center love, hope and happiness. I have often 
pictured to myself an ideal home, a prototype of a Chris- 
tian's paradise, where the hearthstone is the altar made 
sacred by a wife's love, and where her smiles are the sweet 
sunshme to chase away the clouds that would gather about 
the soul's horizon." 

"It is not so easy to have things as realistic as we can 
paint them by imagination," said Maudelle. "We should 



198 



MAUDELLE. 



take into account the possibility of the inmates of a home 
being mistaken and disappointed in each other, then their 
entire lives will be a continuous source of regret without a 
remedy." said she. 

"That only occurs," said he, "when two persons are 
brought together by a transitory passion which boys and 
girls in their teens mistake for love. I have long since 
passed that point and have now reached the age of mature 
judgment, of a safe and correct decision. 

"I know whom, when and why I love. It is not for 
money, you know that. It is not for beauty, because that 
will fade; but it is Maudelle, because my soul finds in you 
its counterpart, its ideal woman, its inseparable helpmate." 

"Is not that the same old story which every lover repeats ?" 
said she, laughing. 

"It may be pretty much the same story, but in no sense 
does it have the same meaning, except when the obligations 
are lived up to," said he. 

"Dearest Maudelle," said he, "is it these gloomy thoughts, 
this dark picture of married life you paint without a star 
or a sun, which makes you hesitate to be mine?" 

"O, no," said she, "I merely want to be free, free to be 
dictator of my own destiny, free to give uninterrupted play 
to my own efforts, and, whether they lead to success or 
failure, they will be mine to condemn or mine to bless. 

"I want to demonstrate the fact that women can do 
something more than dress, entertain and keep house." 

"Your adventure will lead to failure, it cannot be* other- 
wise. It seems to me the sacrifice will be tenfold greater 
than all the good to come out of it," said he. 

"Well you see," said Maudelle, "I shall be free to quit, 
if I miss my calling, which would not be the case, were I 
married." 

"Divorcement," said he, "is a way out of an unhappy 
marriage which is sometimes resorted to," — laughingly. 



199 



MAUDELLE. 



"That is a method which may separate two persons and 
thereby change their condition, but can never bring back 
the virtue and good name of a woman, nor restore the re- 
spectability and standing of a man in the community," said 
Maudelle. 

"Can not a divorced couple redeem themselves by 
a more careful second marriage ?" said Crondell with a 
smile. 

"They may," said she, "but I nether think it is impos- 
sible to take back our first vows and pledges, and, as they 
lie crushed and broken at our feet, attempt to rebuild a 
happy home upon the wreck and ruins of the first." 

"I fully agree with you," said he. "I do not care how 
many times a man marries, if he is sane and conscious of 
his obligations, it goes into eternity unchanged, and any 
other obligation or marriage cannot morally free one from 
the first to which he has willingly subscribed. 

"But away with all subjects of this kind, they do not 
concern me now. I am concerned in no subject except the 
one which involves what I am now and more particularly 
what I hope to be from this night on. 

"Maudelle dear, you have the power to decide the fate 
of my life. It is all with you, either to make my life worth 
living or to make it a worthless and hopless blank. Which 
do you propose to do ?" 

With a forlorn sigh he settled himself back in his seat, 
and like a criminal thrown on the mercy of the court, 
awaited the decision with both hope and dread depicted on 
his face. 

Maudelle now brought face to face with the "Yes or No," 
hesitated in her search for some reply that would do no 
violence to the feelings of the man who she knew loved 
her and who she felt, with a keen sense of justice, deserved 
to be loved. 

"Mr. Crondell," she began. 



20Q 



MAUDELLE. 



"O, no, no," int rrupted he, "don't say Mr. Crondell; 
call me Tom, dearest, call me Tom, just for this evening, 
if never again, and, while you are buried, lost to me in the 
South, I shall try to live on the pleasant thoughts of this 
evening's interview. 

" 'Mister,' indeed, 'Mister/ from the only woman I 
love in the world. Pardon me, Maudelle, pardon me for 
this rude interruption. I had to speak in self-defence 
for the 'Mister' seemed to place me in such a cold, forbid 
ding, unapproachable distance in the background of your 
friendship that I feel I am still a stranger. 

"Again, the 'Mister', I fear, forbodes an unfavorable 
answer to my proposition. Proceed, dear, proceed, but 
always 'Tom' after this." 

Maudelle hesitated, blushed and exhibited nervousness 
as the word "Tom" began to shape itself on her tongue. 
"Well — then — Tom," said she, as the crimson flush on her 
face showed the effort it took to make free with the name 
which she knew could be nothing more to her than memory's 
signal of an isolated friend. 

The word "Tom" was not more than uttered before 
Crondell had her face between his hands attempting to 
press a hurried kiss upon her lips. She threw up her hands 
and pushed him back, but it was too late; he had kissed her 
and stepped back beyond her reach, looking frightened 
and really embarrassed at what he had done. 

Maudelle 's keen, black eyes flashed the fire of disapproval. 

"Please do not be angry with me, Maudelle," said he. 
"God knows I could not help it. You spoke the word 
'Tom' so prettily that I lost all control of myself. I was 
overwhelmed and intoxicated with a baptism of affection 
which inadvertently drew me to you in spite of myself. 

"Had every strand of hair of your head been a bayonet 
with points placed against my breast my action would have 
been the same. 



201 



MAUDELLE. 



"Come, Maudelle, come! Don't look at me so angrily. 
I assure you I meant no harm. Say you forgive me, for 
I am truly sorry I have displeased you." 

For the moment she felt the fire of indignation rise with- 
in her. She felt sadly disappointed in Crondell. That 
he should disregard all sense of gentlemanly politeness and 
virtually ravish her of a kiss, was shocking. 

Not that her moral status had suffered by his conduct, 
but she always had felt a secret pride from the fact that 
no man's lips had ever touched hers. 

But to rage and rant over the notion of a little lost pride 
would not comport well with her intelligence; thus reason 
dictated forbearance. So, when Crondell extended a pen- 
itent hand she took it. 

"I will forgive you, but I assure you, I will never give you 
the same cause to repeat the offense." 

"Then I suppose I am to be 'Mr. Crondell/ after this?" 
said he, while his voice faltered and died to a whisper. 

" 'Mr. Crondell', always," repeated she after him with 
a look of positive sternness which he understood. The two 
had met before in argument on matters pertaining to science, 
religion, sociology or ethics, and he knew her calibre and 
ready sharp satire when once aroused. 

Both were silent for a time, possibly he was calling up 
some new thought with which to renew the subject of mar- 
riage, and she, how to parry the attack politely and reason- 
ably. 

Sometimes silence is dangerous to the cause of lovers 
when differing but slightly on some point in the choice of 
each other for life. Dangerous, when the subject drags 
slowly and then stops; the heart cools, the mind goes 
off after phantoms, and, if the cause is not entirely lost 
to the aggressor, it usually takes a double effort to begin 
where one quit, with the same ardent interest as 
before. 



202 



MAUDELLE. 



"Maudelle, dear, I would give worlds if I could fully 
understand you, I mean, if I only knew whether or not 
I have a secure place in your affection. Tell me, truly, 
do you really believe me to be incapable of contributing 
happiness to a wife?" 

"No, I do not doubt your capability of making a good 
husband of whom a woman should be proud," said she. 

"Then in what am I wanting?" said he. "Tell me and 
I will at once down with the fault and fortify myself against 
its repetition from this hour, cost me what it will." 

"I have always been frank with you," said Maudelle, 
"By your authority I have tried to fill the place of a sister, 
and my sisterly reproof and admonition have always been 
given in the spirit of love." 

Crondell started to his feet, exclaiming, u i Given in love/ 
did you say ?" 

A smile played over Maudelle's face. "I mean 'love' 
in its general application to mankind," said she. 
"O, you cruel girl," said he. 

"Truthful girl, is a better name, especially to-night, since 
our associations must soon end," said she. 

"Our associations would never end, no never, were the 
choice left with me. I was fool enough at one time to be- 
lieve that you cared a little for me, and that you might pos- 
sibly love me sometime; but it seems now it is not to be so," 
said he. 

"I do care for you, I really like you very much, perhaps 
better than I like any young man in Boston. A good deal 
for a girl to acknowledge, I know; but I will not conceal 
the truth when I feel it is in justice to you, to the confession 
of your affection for me," said she. 

Crondell timidly took her hand in both of his. "The 
world," said he, "can never produce another Maudelle, 
because all that is womanly, all that is sweet and lovely is 
embodied in this one." He kissed her hand which she 



203 



MAUDELLE. 



made no effort to release, and pressed it fervently against 
his breast. 

"I like you," continued Maudelle, " because you are hon- 
orable, upright, and truthful, and especially because you 
are so untiringly devoted to your mother, which is one of the 
best indications of a whole-hearted man with whom a woman 
may safely trust her keeping." 

"Maudelle dear, you will never know how highly I 
value your opinion of me," said Crondell. 

"I mean it from the depth of my heart," said Maudelle. 

"Then, dearest," said he, "if you have so good an 
opinion of me, why not let me care for you through life?" 
said he, as he caressed and pressed her hand to his 
bosom. 

"Two reasons, and only two, why I cannot," said 
Maudelle. 

"First, I have a mission in life to fulfil, imposed on me, 
it is true, when I was but a child; but the obligations are 
sacred to me, because they are the last words I can re- 
member of a dying father. I need not go into details, 
since you have heard them before. 

"Second, I have often told you that the relation I sustain 
to the colored people prevented any thought of our ever being 
anything more to each other than what we are now." 

"But you know, Maudelle, that the tint of blood will 
make no difference with me, neither will it with my parents. 
My mother has told you as much, and with my parents on 
our side we can defy the world." 

"No, we cannot defy the world," said Maudelle, "even 
though your parents and a few friends take sides with us. 
We can never change the public mind to suit our conven- 
ience, by waging against it a single-handed social warfare. 
We must subscribe at present to the popular rule our fathers 
have made, a rule that rigidly forbids the legitimate inter- 
marriage of the races, but is silent, shamefully silent, on 



204 



MAUDELLE. 



that clandestine cohabitation, a thing, to my mind, that 
should be stamped with the indelible condemnation of every 
high-minded, right-thinking individual of a well-regulated 
community. 

"It may be that the fault lies in the fact that people have 
not as yet been properly educated, and are therefore in- 
nocently and ignorantly blind to the basic principles of the 
truth of moral ethics upon which the laws of social purity 
rest. 

"It seems to me that our present social condition, which 
admits of a conglomerate, irregular commingling of the 
races and a peopling of the country with illegitimate off- 
springs is a thousand times more demoralizing to society 
and damaging to the national growth and strength and 
standing of the people than lawful intermarriage could 
possibly be. 

"But if the people have not learned this, we must wait 
and suffer as a nation until they do. 

"For my part, I would not violate a social rule which the 
wisdom of our ancestors sternly forbade." 

"That means, I suppose, that I am not to claim you as 
my wife?" said Crondell. 

"Under the circumstances it means that," said she. 

"Curse the rule and the infernal fools who have made 
it," said he, in a passion of vehement excitement. "Jus- 
tice and common sense," continued he, "should make the 
preponderance of blood the standard to one's claim to 
national identity and social preference." 

"That," said she, "would be a wise conclusion for a cul- 
tured, Christian people, who are wholly responsible for the 
infusion of Anglo-Saxon blood into one-fifth of the negro 
race, and when our fathers abuse and scorn that admix- 
ture of blood wherever found, it is but to scorn and abuse 
themselves, which does not harmonize very well with our 
boasted intelligence. 



205 



MAUDELLE. 



"But as long as the verdict of public sentiment is averse 
to first principles of common humanity for its own, we need 
hope for nothing better than we have at present. In fact, 
so far as it relates to me, I am satisfied to have it remain 
as it is, clandestine commingling excepted." 

"I am not," said Crondell, "I am not satisfied to tamely 
bend my manhood to any traditional rule or even statutory 
enactment, which would take from me a single moral, 
social or legal right, and thereby rob me of the association 
of the only woman I have ever loved. 

"The fool, or fools, who dare to attempt to assume con- 
trol of my heart and conscience by dictating to me as to 
whom I shall and shall not make my companion through 
life, will find in me an adversary who knows not retreat, 
capitulation nor mercy. 

"You are trying to respect a rule or custom established 
by our fathers, you say, but when our fathers have wilfully 
broken their own code, what better obedience can they ex- 
pect from their children?" said he, with considerable 
warmth. 

"But will not the children show superior wisdom by 
obeying a law as they find it, until it can be repealed by the 
popular vote and a better established?" said she. 

" Give me the woman I love, and I can endure any pun- 
ishment society may choose to inflict, and I shall still be 
happy," said he. 

"I could not be happy, or even contented, to live in dis- 
guise. If only the one-thousandth part of my blood be- 
longs to the colored race, that warrants their claim to me, 
and I willingly grant it," said she. 

"That, my dear girl, is the greatest mistake of your life," 
said he. 

"I respect your opinion but must adhere to my own," 
said she. 

"I would to God, Maudelle," said Crondell, "you would 



206 



MAUDELLE. 



fly with me to a country where people have souls that can 
feel the truth and impress of God's touch, A people who 
have outgrown that contemptible custom of measuring 
souls by color, rather than by morals and mental worth. 

"Come, Maudelle dear, come with me to a country 
and a people where social rights are accorded to the worthy 
and pure, irrespective of color or creed — a people who are 
true to what they profess." 

"No," said she, "I have committed no offense from which 
I must run. If my father committed a sin, and through 
sin I received my being, he has made it possible for me to 
do better, by placing in my hands sufficient means to ex- 
empt me from want and to make myself the woman he de- 
sired I should be. 

"My father's last advice to me was to live true to the 
race of my mother. Although he is dead, I shall respect 
and obey his advice. No, I will not run — if there is not 
justice enough in the hearts of my native countrymen to 
protect me in my social rights, I will manage to live without 
those rights. To run would be cowardice; to marry out 
of my race would be social suicide; so it is best I do neither; 
best that I should not daringly go into a thing which would 
render my husband and myself forever unhappy." 

"Maudelle, dear," said he, in a gentle but tremulous 
voice which showed an exhaustion of propositions, "love 
is the golden key to human happiness; and if husband 
and wife truly loved each other, they could shut out the 
entire world and still be eminently happy within them- 
selves." 

"I think not," said she, "we are social beings, w T ith cus- 
toms and habits largely made up of social environments. 
We naturally seek contact with opposite minds, in order 
to keep our intellectuality to an edge. We cannot live, 
think and act within ourselves, without producing that 
monotonous, mental disease which unfits one for public 



207 



MAUDELLE. 



and private usefulness. Love is not enough — love cannot 
supply all the demands of our social nature; because love 
is only one element, one important factor of our composite 
individuality. 

" Again, I do not believe that love can always remain 
at the same unvarying, high tension; but, like the tides of 
the sea, will ebb and flow with time and circumstance. 

"Best it is so; otherwise, the passion of the soul, kept at 
white heat, without relaxation, would inevitably produce 
mania. The heart would burn to an empty, charred, 
hollow shell, totally unresponsive to the touch of sympathy." 

"You make me think that you are hererodoxical," said 
he, "that you have no faith in the permanency of love." 

"No, not that," said she, "I believe that trust, confi- 
dence and hope may remain the same, and keep two con- 
fiding hearts pure and strong in the holy bonds of an in- 
separable union for life. I apprehend, however, that mar- 
riage corresponds very much to the oil painting of a master, 
which has its dim, misty, suggestive background, its more 
pronounced and defined middle distance, then its strong 
light and shade, its bold, massive touches in the foreground, 
which breaks the sameness, and gives a pleasing sense of 
harmony to the eye." 

"I do not see," said Crondell, "why it is necessary for 
married life to partake of these variations." 

"It is not particularly necessary, except it is to give a 
new impulse to its interest from time to time," said she. 
"We never put a true valuation on health until it has been 
lost and regained. Thus we might go through that long 
inexhaustible concatenation of opposites, negatives and 
positives, which gives life its coloring." 

"It is rather a sudden change of the subject, I know," 
said Crondell, "but the thought has so frequently come 
to me, I take this occasion to throw it off. It is this — How 
is it that you could ever love and marry a negro and 



208 



MAUDELLE 



enrich him with your matchless intellect and beauty 
which no one of that race could properly appreciate?" 

Maudelle winced under the abrupt question which came 
so unexpectedly. With a slight shrug of the shoulders 
and a gentle tapping of her foot on the floor — " Just in the 
same way that you say that you love and desire to marry 
a colored woman," said she with a keen edge to every 
word, which brought the color to his face. 

He laughed — a chilly, soulless laugh, was the only reply 
he seemed to have at hand. 

Both were silent, both were busy with thoughts, the 
importance of which we shall never know. There seemed 
to be a threatening crisis gathering about the horizon of 
their friendship, which if not averted by timely and amicable 
arbitration, would burst forth into irreparable fury. 

Crondell was the first to speak. 

" Maudelle," said he, "I have now confessed my love for 
you, as free and fully as I know how; but even love has a 
limit, when unsupported by hope. Would it not be better 
for us both, that you take more time to reflect before you 
give me the final answer to my proposition?" 

"My time," said she, "is so wholly absorbed in other 
matters, I cannot afford to sacrifice time, reflecting on a 
proposition which in the end can have but the one 
answer, and which is ready at this moment." 

The fire in their two natures seemed to snap and sparkle 
for vent, while both tried to "down brakes," and be polite 
and respectful. 

"Then," said he, "give me the answer, I am ready to 
hear it." 

Staring into her face as though his life hung on the end 
of her tongue — "I" said she, "I have had nothing to do 
with making — nor shall I have anything to do with un- 
making the code of social ethics which forbids the coa- 
lescence of the races; therefore, I will never marry a white 

209 



MAUDELLE. 



man, come what will." The positiveness of her utterance 
Crondell knew meant no further appeal. 

Up to this time he had held her hand tenderly in his — 
now he threw it from him with violence as though it burned 
him. 

He sprang to his feet and rapidly paced the floor like a 
caged panther. He was evidently taking the answer hard. 
His hands nervously changed from his side pockets to 
his breast, upon which he drummed with irregular spas- 
modic beats. 

Maudelle waited to parry the blow which she knew 
would come. 

He stopped short — walked up to her, and as he looked 
her full in the face, he plainly saw in her piercing black 
eyes all tokens of love bidding him a final farewell. 

"My dear girl," said he, in a voice which was cold and 
void of all tenderness, "be a woman, and free yourself 
from a foolish determination which will make shipwreck 
of a life that ought to be put to a better purpose." 

Maudelle made no answer — determined to keep quiet 
until his say ended. 

"Away with the silly excuse," said he, "that you are 
identified with the negro race. It may be you are — which 
is doubtful, for heaven knows there is no perceptible sign 
of any such connection. You are so far removed from 
that race in color, features, manners and intellect, that 
not one in a thousand would believe what you claim." 

Then with a touch of forced good nature in his speech, 
he continued, "But, if we grant that there is a remote con- 
nection, it only makes your complexion the more rich and 
your eyes the more expressively charming. 

"The combination of blood has conspired against your 
sex, and has made you without a peer in the world. You 
are as fair and as beautiful as a poet's dream. Maudelle, 
I advise you to take the timely warning of my senior years, 

210 



MAUDELLE. 



and you will have no regrets to haunt you through life; 
but if you foolishly insist on having your own way, then 
you may expect nothing but sorrow, anguish and bitter 
tears to be your constant companions to the grave," said 
he with the air of a legal adviser. 

"What advice have you to give, sir?" said she, in rather 
a penitent tone, which had the effect she expected — to en- 
courage him to say his worst of the race, out of the bitter- 
ness of his heart, and thereby crush her plans and opinion 
beyond the possibility of recovery. 

With the authoritative air of a superior, he continued, 
"My advice is this — Step out of your race, as you call it, 
and make your return impossible by renouncing your claim 
to it, and swearing eternal allegiance to the Anglo-Saxon 
race. 

"I have no need to impress you with the fact that the 
white race will always be superior, morally, mentally and 
financially. The white man is progressive and aggressive; 
he has never held second place to any man in the world, 
and never will. The white man is simply invincible. 
There is no demand for our well-being that has not, or can- 
not be supplied by the white man's genius. There is no 
disease so malignant, but what he either cures or drives it 
from the land — No mountain so high, that he has not 
crossed or bored through it — No sea so deep, that he has not 
explored its bottom — No planet so distant that he has not 
mapped its surface and given us its name and dimensions. 

"Nothing — absolutely nothing so praiseworthy can be 
said of the negro, who is a legitimate child of superstition, 
dirt and foul odors. 

"While the white man has pushed forward through priva- 
tions, danger and death, to develop the resources of the 
world for the betterment of his posterity, the negro has in- 
habited his jungles in Africa on peaceful equality with wild 
beasts, slaying and eating his fellowman for a pastime. 



211 



MAUDELLE. 



"What solace can a refined, sensitive Christian woman, 
like you, find in claiming kinship with a race like that ? 

"I grant you in advance of your answer, that there may 
be some reasonable excuse for the native African, who has 
not been fully embraced in a civilizing influence. But 
look you at the negroes of this country, where they have 
been in touch with the cultured white people for hundreds 
of years, you find nothing but ignorance, gross immorality, 
sickening and repulsive to every sense of common decency.' ' 

"Do you make no exceptions in your charges?" quietly 
inquired Maudelle. 

"The exceptions are so very few, that they will be forever 
lost in the sloth and whirlpool of negro inferiority and deg- 
radation. 

"We have just gone through one of the most bloody 
civil wars on record, in which hundreds of noble men left 
homes and family, and gave their lives for what ? To free 
a herd of four million human cattle that were too ignorant 
to make decent slaves. 

"And you, Maudelle — you would make a useless sacri- 
fice of your life by clinging to a worthless race whose con- 
dition you nor others cannot better, though you should 
have a thousand years to live and labor among them. 
% "Why, for God's sake! why? will you give up your place 
in society, where you move with the authority of a queen, 
and sink to the bottom with the negro, from which you can 
never rise again? 

"How can you become so callous and utterly unmindful 
of the duty you owe to your friends who have always been 
pleased to contribute their mite to your social pleasure? 

"Will you so foolishly sacrifice your good name, quit 
your exalted position in the best and most cultured circles 
where you are loved for your virtue, and honored for your 
intelligence and beauty? I say — in the name of all that 
is sacred — will you give this all up — pair with a negro in 



212 



MAUDELLE. 



wedlock, submit yourself to his brutish embraces and go 
down to degradation with his doomed race ? 

"Maudelle, Maudelle! mark well my words and decide 
quickly. The opportunity is still yours; seize it while you 
can. You have open to you the way of escape through me. 
My life and my all shall be spent for your pleasure. Act 
wisely by accepting my offer, and thereby forever free your- 
self from your absurd notions, and the cursed negro race." 

Mr. Crondell delivered this speech with real warmth 
of passion and seeming earnestness of purpose, to con- 
vince Maudelle of her error; but unfortunately for him, 
it had the effect of widening the chasm between them. 

Had there been any of Maudelle's friends secreted with- 
in hearing distance of Crondell 's fiery speech, which was 
delivered in a heat of excited passion, with curled lips and 
brow blackened with intense hatred for the negro, they, 
no doubt, would have said, "Poor little thing, I fear he 
has driven her into a corner and she will never be able to 
twist herself out of his mental trap." 

But, friend, let us trust the heroine to go into the duel 
alone — she may score a victory for her race. 

He resumed his seat with the proud and lofty mien of a 
great conqueror, who had by superior strategem and cour- 
age crushed his victim and brought her humbly to his feet, 
praying for terms. 

However, in the secret exultation over his victory, he 
felt a kind of pity for Maudelle, who he believed was for- 
ever silenced. On other occasions, mused he, she has al- 
ways held her own in any argument with me; but in this 
she has evidently no material matter for a defense. He 
thought he had exhausted both sides of the subject, and 
she had no alternative but capitulation. 

But Mr. Crondell was mistaken; the little heroine came 
to the attack, asking no quarters in [her measurement of 
lances with her boasting opponent. The first half dozen 



213 



MAUDELLE. 



words transfixed him in his seat, and brought a deep sigh 
of regret to his throat. 

He was reminded that in his fevered onslaught of the 
negro race, he had forgotten to make any allowance, or to 
dissociate Maudelle from the worthless type. 

With head erect and eyes burning into his soul — "Mr. 
Crondell," said she, "nothing could have been more for- 
tunate for me than this evening's interview, which has un- 
covered a deep-hidden principle of yours, which you have 
heretofore kept well guarded at the bottom of your decep- 
tive nature. While I am truly thankful for the informa- 
tion thus gained, I cannot but regret having learned so 
much of the dark side of your heart, which I never dreamed 
was so full of bitter hatred to the negro, until now. I say 
' 1 regret,' because you, of all others, have been my ideal 
man — the bright sun in the gallaxy of my imagination. 
But what I thought was a man, fails me — and is only a phan- 
tom. What I thought was a luminous sun, deceives me; 
it is only a falling meteor which has flashed out and left 
the place darker than before. 

"I regret that our association must end to-night, and not 
only must our association end, but I can no longer carry 
with me the good opinion of you I have so long cherished. 

"It is evident to me from your argument, that the same 
opinion you have of my race, is the opinion you would have 
of me, were I in your power, and without the prerogative 
of bettering my own condition — " 

"Beg a thousand pardons," said he, "I had no reference 
to you, I — " 

Maudelle turned her head from him, and with her hand 
waived him to silence. "Not a word, sir, not a word. If 
with your boasted intelligence you have not sufficient judg- 
ment to discriminate between a race of people and the in- 
dividuals of the race, I have not the patience to hear you 
attempt to correct your mistake. Out of the fulness of 



214 



MAUDELLE. 



your heart you have spoken and any other explanation 
would only be misrepresentation. 

"I shall not attempt a detailed answer to your argument; 
but I shall rather epitomize my reply, and thereby relieve 
you in the shortest possible time of my presence, and of 
any further consideration of this subject. 

"Had you been more reasonable and temperate, as I 
thought I had a right to expect from one who had so per- 
sistently professed friendship for me, I might have been 
induced to change my plans and abandon my purpose. 
But, instead of convincing me of something better than 
my own plans, you throw down the gauntlet for war upon 
my people, and I have no alternative but to take it up and 
defend them. 'Step out of my race,' you say. That, sir, 
may be good advice for a traitor, who has neither race- 
pride nor principle; but, for me, it goes for nothing. 

"If there is anyone whom I can hate, with a hatred too 
intense for pardon, it is the colored man or woman who is 
mean and little enough in principle to dodge the truth of 
his racial identity and sneak into the white race to conceal 
his identity by living a lie. The one who would do tha t 
clearly acknowledges his own inferiority by the act of his 
stealing a place in the society of the whites, so as to raise 
himself in his own estimation. As for me, I am proud of 
a race that has never blackened its character by trading 
in human flesh and blood, while claiming high-class civil- 
ization and Christianization, as does the white race, I am 
truly proud of a race that has never disgraced its national 
standing by producing a traitor or a rebel against the govern- 
ment of this country, while being protected by it, at home 
and abroad. I am proud of a race out of which never 
hatched and grew a copperhead, whose aim was dismember- 
ment and destruction of the commonwealth. I am par- 
ticularly proud of a race which contributed two hundred 
thousand soldiers to be offered upon the altar of this govern- 

215 



MAUDELLE. 



ment (which has never been truly theirs); but they made 
the sacrifice for less pay than white men; having neither 
protection at home for their families, nor for themselves on 
the battle-field. 

"They fought without any hope or promise of promo- 
tion as an incentive to fearless duty. Without any military 
training, they were paired against white men who were 
skilled in the handling of arms, and yet with these odds 
against them, I am authoritatively informed, that there was 
not one traitor or deserter among that two hundred thou- 
sand negro soldiery. 

"On the other hand, the white portion of the army fur- 
nished one hundred and ninety thousand traitors or desert- 
ers, with everything to encourage their loyalty. The moral 
and mental advantage you claim is not the difference in 
your favor — it should be. The negro has been carefully 
schooled in ignorance, as a potent means of keeping him 
in slavery; and the white man who dared to teach him let- 
ters, lost a hand by the surgeon's saw. Their opportunity 
for moral culture was much less under your cultured white 
race, w T ho encouraged and fostered a shameful, illegitimate 
increase to their human stock for unholy mercenary gain, 
and then, as though to give sin a blacker hue than the 
blackest vapors of perdition, some have sold their own off- 
spring and when their guilty conscience cried out against 
the brutal treatment of their children, consciences were 
hushed to silence with the argument, that those children 
were half negro and had no right to a father's mercy." 

"Maudelle, Maudelle!" interrupted Crondell, excitedly, — 
she put up her hand and rose to her feet. 

"I will not hear you, sir," said she, continuing, while 
Crondell covered his face with his hands and bent forward. 

"I grant you the claim to financial superiority ; but how 
did that come ? By heartless robbery. If your race could 
find charity enough in their souls to give back to the. ne^ro 



216 



MAUDELLE. 



— as my noble father did — the value of his toil in material 
worth, very much of the national wealth you claim would 
go a long way toward equalizing the financial status of the 
two races. But this will not be done, and the dominant 
race will always be debtor to the negro. 

" Again, you advise me to escape the curse of the race 
through you." She laughed with all the contempt of which 
a woman is capable. ''Through you/' she repeated with 
a disdainful tone to her voice. " Through you I am to bet- 
ter my condition, you say? That, sir, is more arrogance 
than usually falls to the lot of an idiot. Do you know, sir, 
that the greatest curse known to woman, is to be cursed 
with a husband whom she can neither love nor respect." 

With a polite bow T , "farewell," said she, as she quit the 
room and closed the door after her. 



217 



CHAPTER XX. 



SOLILOQUY OF A LOVER — CHANGED TO A DEMON. 

Crondell sat like a stone statue, as his astonished eyes 
followed Maudelle when she swept out of the room and 
closed the door between them. 

He gazed long and steadily at the door through which 
she had gone — no, not at he door, but rather by imagination 
at what was beyond the door. It was an end which he had 
not expected and for which he was not prepared; but he 
was satisfied that the last thread of friendship had snapped, 
and no human power could reunite the strands. Her con- 
nection with the negro race being so very remote, he did not 
think that she would take any part in their defense, or, at 
leasr, no more than might have been expected from one of 
his own race. 

As the vacant gaze on his face passed, he dropped his 
head on his breast and hands on his knees, and said, " There 
by heavens! I fear the last card is played out, and the 
devil has got the game. Too much advice, too badly timed 
and still worse delivered, has broken the last thread of hope, 
and I am at sea without sail or rudder. Is it possible, 
is she lost to me forever? Is this really the end of that 
hopeful beginning of fifteen months ago? Is there to be 
no reunion of friendship? 

"She has said there shall be none, and there is no author- 
ity to make it otherwise. 

"Then, by Jupiter! as King Richard said, ' Since lean- 
not prove a lover to entertain these farewell spoken days, 
I am determined to prove a villain.' Since war is declared, 
there shall be war to the last inch of ground between us. 



218 



MAUDELLE. 



"The most severe and uncompromising fight ever waged 
between mortals, is the social fight of two who were once 
fast, confiding friends, or sworn lovers. 

"When the passionate emotions of the soul have been out- 
raged and distorted, and all that was once love, hope and 
confidence has gone to the other extreme, then kind and 
gentle words are changed to the most bitter vituperations, 
blessings to curses, warm, trusted love to icy, malicious 
hatred, tender mercies to bloodthirsty revenge, and the two 
hope and pray for the worst that can come to each other. 

"Love has retro verted; true, such a crisis has come to 
others, but certainly to none has it come so severely as to 
me. 

"Some infernal spirit has crept across the threshold of 
love's temple, and has blown a chilly blast from perdition 
upon all that was fair and promising to me — then — has 
stepped back in the dark to await the inevitable coming 
of the tornado. 

"Alas! it has come — yes, it has come and swept through 
two loving hearts with intense fury. It has overturned the 
beautiful, laboriously-built monument, erected by trusted 
love, hope, and friendship. I suppose all the cursed imps 
of hell stand gloating and giggling over the ruins. 

"O, that heaven would come once more to the rescue, 
and repair the week — ! O, that the flood tide of love would 
rise again — would rise as high and as full as heretofore, 
and let me dip deep in the cup of joy and taste its sweet 
dainties once again before it runs eternally dry. 

" But why foolishly hope for reunion ? She has said there 
shall he none, and from her word there is no appeal. The 
rent in the heart is irreparable, the w r ound is too sore to 
heal, the breach is too wide to bridge, the sinner is unre- 
lenting, and the sinned against is unforgiving." 

He violently smote his breast with his hand, and then 
thrust his hands from him with fingers spread as though a 



219 



MAUDELLE. 



poison serpent was snatched from his bosom and thrown 
to the ground. J 

" There," said he, "I throw from me the last shadow of 
affection I have for Maudelle Morroe. If I must be a devil, 
I will be the merciless arch-fiend of all devils. I shall 
league with hell, and employ all the hell hounds in the uni- 
verse to chase her down. There shall be no sleep, no rest, 
and no cessation of hostilities until she is securely bagged 
and my worst vengeance is fully satisfied. 

"I will humble her proud heart, although it may cost 
me my life, and even the loss of my soul — let them go ! just 
so I get unstinted revenge, I willingly pay the price. I 
will dog her pathway by day and by night. I will overtake 
her and entangle her feet in a deep-laid snare, and with 
the subtle cunningness of a demon of darkness, I will bring 
her to my feet begging for mercy to cover her shame. I 
will ruin her — I will break her heart and crush it beneath 
my heel." With menacing nervous finger pointing at the 
door through which she went, he said — "Farewell, farewell, 
my fleeing wild bird — farewell! sleep sweetly while you can. 
Make much of your victory to-night; tomorrow night it may 
be mine. Yes — mine — . By the eternal gods! it shall be 
mine." This said, he in nervous excitement, then took his 
hat and hurriedly left the room. 



220 



CHAPTER XXI. 



THE CROW'S ROOST. 

Boston, like other large cities, has its quota of poor, de- 
graded, half-fed and half clad people, who gravitate to the 
low, filthy slums, not so much from choice as from necessity, 
for cheap shelter. 

Nude children, dogs, cats and rats associate together 
on harmonious equality, all having but one aim in life, 
food-hunting. Certainly there can be no hell for lost spirits, 
where the suffering is more intense than the suffering of 
the human soul, half dead from the sting of cold and 
hunger in winter, and breathing the hot, poisonous vapors 
and noxious odors, famishing and being eaten by creeping 
vermin in Summer. 

To live thus, with no hope of a change for the better in 
a lifetime, is indeed hell enough to punish the worst sinner 
that God has made. 

When a mother's hungry, emaciated, sunken-eyed chil- 
dren crawl up into her lap and with arms about her neck, 
piteously beg for food, and their little mouths are hushed 
with passionate kisses — all a famishing mother has to give 
them; is not that hell enough for such a mother? 

When the father, who has tramped through the snow 
and rain on the streets and highways all day looking for 
work and bread, and returns home at night with empty 
hands and pockets, is met at the door by his hungry, de- 
pendent offspring, to whom he reports as he did yesterday 
and other days — nothing. 

When his starving little babies turn away and crouch 
about the scanty fire, with little, thin, bony arms folded 



221 



MACJDELLE. 



across their naked knees; and he has not the ability 10 do 
for those children, is that not hell enough for that father? 

When the baby girl lies on a few rags in the corner, 
wri hing in convulsions — whom the weeping mother is 
trying to call back to consciousness — opening its eyes, 
looks into the face of a father, and with its wasted, fever- 
parched lips, and its blistered tongue working in an effort 
to ask for bread, relapses into another spasm and dies 
without knowing why it could not have one crumb from 
this world's great plenty — what, or where, is there a worse 
hell than that? 

We ask the reader these questions because one of the 
characters who comes forward in this chapter and disap- 
pears in the last scene in Boston, has felt the sting. 

This low part of the town just mentioned, which will 
furnish material for the remaining chapters in the Boston 
sequel, has a history full of interest. 

The officers of the law seldom chased a criminal to his 
den in these haunts, especially after night-fall; thus sin, 
vice and crime reigned supreme. 

It sometimes happened that a new man on the police 
force, with more bravery than discretion, would follow an 
offender to his den; but he came out more often with a 
bloody head than he did with his man. 

In such a part of the city stood an old, abandoned glue 
factory of which the owners had made no use for a long 
time. It backed up on a narrow alley which had become 
impassable for vehicles, owing to fallen walls and immense 
piles of rubbish and filth. The old buildings about the 
place were mostly of wood, many of which made preten- 
sions to architectural finish fifty years ago; but now that 
the best part of the city and people had retreated far be- 
yond business and social contact, these old, crazy, totter- 
ing shells served only as shelters for the poorest of the poor 
and the worst outlaws that ever disgraced a city. 



222 



MAUDELLE. 



The old glue factory, as in former days, still maintained 
its dignity as king among its neighboring buildings. Not- 
withstanding it was going to ruin as fast as the other houses, 
yet it looked down from its four stories on them, many of 
which went only one-third as high. The bad treatment 
of rain, snow and high winds had left its wooden walls 
twisted, warped and careening over to one side, so that they 
looked as though the additional weight of a man's finger 
would send them crashing on the cabins below. 

Its sixty odd openings had neither door, shutters nor 
window sashes, except in one corner of the fourth floor, 
where two windows were shut in with bits of plank. The 
steps ran up on the outside of the building, landing on plat- 
forms at each story. A great many of the steps had rotted 
and fallen out; others were tied to the stringers with wire. 

Up and down these long, steep, dangerous-looking steps 
three men climbed and descended several times during 
each night in the year. These were three of Boston's 
most daring thieves, robbers, cutthroats, — everything that 
was bad — and they had their den in a corner of the fourth 
floor of this building, to which they had given the name 
of "The Crow's Roost." 

John McGinnis and Jack Demsy were two Irishmen, 
but a few years escaped convicts from Liverpool, England. 

Bill Duncan, their fearless leader, was a country-reared 
man who had suffered many disappointments and priva- 
tions in life, had cursed the world and had become man's 
greatest enemy. 

These fellows were on the go from dark in the evening 
until daylight in the morning, plundering in every part of 
the city, and when driven in by the approach of day, un- 
loaded and compared their spoils in their den. 

This "Crow's Roost" was a curious-looking place. A 
twelve-by-ten-foot room, inclosed by upright rough boards 
for walls, which were full of large openings, through which 



223 



MAUDELLE. 



the wind whistled, and the snow and rain dashed at will. 
The two window openings were shut in with bits of plank — 
one or two pieces of which were removed in the daytime 
to let in light. The floor was sunken in the middle, like 
an old-fashioned bread tray, owing to many of the joists 
having rotted and fallen out. 

In one corner of the room was a pile of straw partially 
covered with pieces of old carpet, which served for their bed. 

In the centre of the room sat an old iron pot — a sub- 
stitute for a stove — in which burned pieces of coal, chips, 
bones, old shoes, in fact anything that would burn. Di- 
rectly above the fire was a hole cut in the old, leaky tin roof, 
through which the smoke escaped. A barrel, with a piece 
of plank across it, served for the table, and three empty 
beer kegs, the seats. 

An old Dutch oven with side broken out, three tin spoons, 
several broken forks and knives, a pitcher without lip or 
handle, four plates, three or four oyster cans, completed 
the kitchenware and cooking utensils. 

A shoe box nailed to the wall was the safe, ice box and 
cupboard. Bits of bread, potatoes, and spoiled meat, fished 
from swill tubs, were carelessly thrown in and were all 
moulding together, and would not have been considered 
good for a well-cared-for dog. 

"Try your luck, boys," said Bill Duncan, as the three 
men took seats around their barrel, or table, on which 
burned a tallow candle, stuck into a beer bottle. The cards 
were shuffled, and each man cut them in his turn. "Big 
luck for me to-night," said Bill, with a smack of the lips 
and elevation of the brows, which was his sign of satis- 
faction that the arch enemy of men was still on his side. 

While these men were thus engaged one from the outside 
might have seen two well-dressed men with cautious tread 
ascending the steps to the "Crow's Roost." 

The October wind laden with snow and rain, whistling 



224 



MAUDELLE. 



through the open building, carried away the noise of ap- 
proaching footsteps, that gave no warning until loud raps 
at the door startled the inmates and brought them to their 
feet armed for defense. 

No wonder consternation stood out on their faces, be- 
cause a knock at their door was a thing unknown. It could 
not be one of the thugs in the neighborhood, because night 
was harvest time among them, and each one was busy with 
his own affairs and never disturbed his neighbor. 

" Officers of the law," whispered Jack Demsy. 

" Stand by," said Bill Duncan. Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap, 
again and still louder than before, which shook the rickety 
old door that threatened to fall in. 

Bill advanced to the door with a drawn pistol in each 
hand, flanked left and right by his comrades. Within a 
few inches of the door, they halted, with feet braced and 
teeth clenched; they were ready to meet the worst that 
could come. 

With a voice more like that of an enraged tiger than a 
man — "Who in hell are you?" growled Bill. "Speak 
quick, for your minutes are numbered, and are drawing 
devilish near to an end." 

"We are friends," was the hurried reply from the outside. 

"We have got no friends," retorted Bill in his threat- 
ening bass voice. 

"We want to be your friends," said the intruders. 

"We don't need your friendship, and if you value your 
lives, give your names and tell your business, and be damn 
sure you are right," said Bill. 

"Thomas Crondell and Joseph Vandercook. We have 
called to see you on private business, which we desire you 
gentlemen to attend to for us, and for which we are willing 
to pay you a good price," said Crondell. 

"If you are making any misstatement, you will pay the 
penalty with your lives," said Bill. 



225 



MAUDELLE. 



"Our lives are in your hands, if you find us untrue," 
said Vandercook. 

"Open the door, Jack," said Bill. As the hingless door 
was unbarred, and lifted to one side, and the two white 
faces of Crondell and his friend Vandercook appeared in 
the opening, with a dark night as a background, they had 
the appearance of two portraits in one frame. 

The first sight which met their eyes was the drawn pis- 
tols of Bill Duncan and John McCinnis within a few inches 
of their faces. They threw up their hands. "My God! 
gentlemen, we mean no harm, no harm whatever," said 
Vandercook. 

"Step inside," said Bill, who held his pistols uncom- 
fortably near their faces. 

" Step outside, Jack," said Bill, "and remember — shoot the 
first scoundrel that attempts to climb the steps, and I will 
blow these fellows' brains out, if we discover they are spies." 

"We are not spies, gentlemen," said Crondell. 

"Your word goes for nothing with us. All men to us are 
liars until we are otherwise satisfied by personal investi- 
gation." 

"All right, gentlemen, investigation will show that we 
are your friends," said Crondell. 

"Are you armed?" said Bill. 

"We have no weapons of any kind," said they. 

"Search them, John," said Bill. They were searched, 
and no weapons were found on them. 

"Take seats there," said Bill, pointing to the beer kegs. 

"Now," said he, "tell us your business. Let it be short 
and to the point — it costs something to listen as well as to 
talk." Thus said, he stuck a pistol in each boot leg and 
leaned against the wall, facing the visitors, while McGinnis 
took his stand at Bill's side, ready to obey any order that 
might be given by his leader. Jack Demsy stood sentinel 
at the door. 



226 



MAUDELLE. 



" Gentlemen, " said Crondell, "I shall come to the point 
at once. I am in love with a very beautiful girl who has 
turned a d — fool and defied me, and I am driven to mad 
desperation. I know, by Jupiter! I cannot win her back 
by fair means; because we have quarrelled, and she is one 
of those uncompromising, independent little cusses, whose 
decision of character is as firm and unyielding as the rock 
of eternal ages. 

"But, gentlemen, I have determined to league with the 
powers of hell, if it takes that to bend her stubborn heart 
to my will, and I have come for your help, and you shall 
be well paid for your service." 

" In what way can we help you?" inquired Bill. 

" Why, I want you gentlemen to waylay that girl, cap- 
ture her, kidnap her, and take her to the room I have se- 
cured. Once I have gotten her there, where she will be 
beyond the reach of police or friends, and wholly at my 
mercy, I assure you, gentlemen, I shall make good use of 
my advantage." 

"In what part of the city is the place you want us to take 
her?" asked Bill, for the first time showing an interest in 
the scheme. 

"At Madam Dupree's house, not very far from here," 
said Crondell. 

"Do you know her?" asked Vandercook. 

"Slightly," said Bill, with a laugh, and knowing look at 
McGinnis. 

"Yes, I have secured a room there and paid for it in 
advance," said Crondell. "It was through her I found 
you, gentlemen; but not until she had asked us ten thou- 
sand questions, in order to satisfy herself that we were 
not spies. 

"Certainly you and your neighbors have a strong, iron- 
clad contract, of some kind among you by which you pro- 
tect one another's interest." 



227 



MAUDELLE. 



" Pretty well tied together/' said Bill. 

"The Madam informs me, that you gentlemen, are the 
most brave and daring adventurers in Boston." 

"Don't know about that," said Bill, with a shrug of the 
shoulders which showed that he was pleased with the com- 
pliment. 

In a full and clear statement, Crondell gave them his 
plans for their part of the work. He told them about 
Maudelle's visits to the Old Ladies' Home, and that now 
one of the inmates was very sick. Maudelle spent much of 
the day and the early part of the night there. He made a 
drawing of the Home, the route Maudelle took to and from 
the building, which led through a public park, along a cer- 
tain street, and across the end of an alley, in which they 
could conceal themselves and capture her. He then min- 
utely described Maudelle in features and locomotion, and 
gave them her photo. 

"Gentlemen," said he, "I know it is a hazardous under- 
taking. It will take courage, bravery, unerring and quick 
work to accomplish it; but I believe you are equal to the 
task." 

"No job," said Bill, "is too dangerous for us, if there 
is money in it," warming up in interest. 

"Name your price," said Crondell. 

"Three hundred dollars," said Bill. " Fifty dollars down, 
and the balance when the work is done," said Crondell. 

"Agreed," said Bill, "provided you give us a written agree- 
ment." 

"I will do that," said Crondell. "In fact it is best that 
all parties concerned be obligated by written agreement." 

"Paper, please," said Crondell to Bill. "I have my 
indispensable fountain pen." 

"Hunt up some paper, John," said Bill. 

John bustled about but found no paper. He ran down 
the steps was gone five or ten minutes, returned with a 



228 



MAUDELLE. 



small piece of gray paper fished from a rubbish box in the 
back yard of a third-rate drug store. 

"Bad color/' said Crondell, "but it will do under the 
circumstances." He wrote the contract as follows: — 

Crow's Roost, Boston, Mass., October 5, 1868. 
This is to certify that Bill Duncan, Jack Demsy and John 
McGinnis, parties of the first part, agree to kidnap Maud- 
elle Morroe and convey her to the house of Madam Dupree, 
in consideration of three hundred dollars, to be paid to 
them by T. C, party of the second part, as follows: — to 
wit: Fifty dollars down on signing this contract, and the 
balance of two hundred and fifty dollars in cash, when the 
parties of the first part have fulfilled their part of the con- 
tract. 

Signed, 

Bill Duncan, 
Jack Demsy, 
John McGinnis, 
T. C. 

Crondell paid the amount agreed on. 

"Now, gentlemen," said Crondell as he rose to go, "I 
don't know what other instructions I can give you that 
would be of use to you. 

"One thing — you will have to be careful when you take 
her, that she does not scream and thus bring the police 
officers on you." 

"Ah!" said Bill, with a laugh, "you may leave those 
minor details to us. We may have to tap her over; in case 
we do, the effect would be off in a few hours." 

"You cannot afford to delay, because she will go South 
in a few weeks from now." 

"This night we will go over the ground, make our plans, 
and if she Dasses along the route tomorrow night, we will 



229 



MAUDELLE. 



have her with you at Madam Dupree's house in a few 
hours." 

" Good," said Crondell, as he extended his hand, and bade 
good night to the inmates of the " Crow's Roost." 

When Vandercook and Crondell had groped their way 
down the long string of tottering steps and disappeared 
in the darkness, the three men diew their beer kegs close 
together and sat down to mature plans to kidnap Maudelle. 

"By gads," said Jack, "I had no idea them feelers would 
give ye that amount of money for the job." 

"And nather did I," said John. 

"I am never afraid to ask enough, and then I can com- 
promise on less, if I must," said Bill. 

The balance of the ten or fifteen minutes' consultation 
yas inaudible, except the last word from Bill, which gave 
x suggestive clue. 
"Let us go look over the ground, before we determine." 
This said, the three conspirators against the unsuspect- 
ngfgirl, hurried off in the darkness. 



CHAPTER XXII. 



MAUDELLE KIDNAPPED - 

For two or three years Maudelle had taken especial 
interest in the Old Ladies' Home. It was her habit to pre- 
pare some kind of nice, dainty nourishments, as well as 
articles of clothing, and take them to the inmates. This 
secluded little world was inhabited only by old ladies, who 
ate, drank and wore what charity accorded them, and 
quietly waited for death. 

Into this domicile of worn-out womanhood and purity 
of souls Maudelle carried physical comfort and spiritual 
sunshine. 

Thursday of each week was her day to visit the home, 
and at her usual hour, (which was generally in the even- 
ing), the windows were graced with the bleached and aged- 
worn faces of old ladies watching for Maudelle, like 
children for the return of a mother. 

At the time of the rupture between Crondell and Maud- 
elle, one of the old ladies was sick, and Maudelle was giv- 
ing a great deal of her time to the sick woman, 

Crondell had accompanied Maudelle to the home on 
several occasions, and would call later in the evening for 
her. Thus he knew her time of going, the route she took, 
and the little basket she usually carried; all of which 
he minutely described to the kidnappers. 

"Now, boys, remember the instructions. When you 
hear me cough three times, look sharp, you may know that 
she is on hand. Jack, you will step in quickly behind her, 
tap her behind the ear sufficiently hard to put her to sleep 
for an hour so. John, be ready to catch her before she 

231 



MAUDELLE. 



falls on the bricks, and I will be on hand to dress her for 
the journey. Stand by, boys, if she is on time, you will not 
have to wait many minutes. Should there be anyone too 
near, we will let her pass and take her as she returns home. ,, 
These were Bill Duncan's instructions to his comrades. 
He then hurried to the park through which Maudelle would 
pass. 

The place selected to kidnap the girl could not have been 
more appropriate if they had had six months to prepare 
for it. The small, well-kept park, bounded on four sides 
by imposing, aristocratic residences, made this park more 
of a private than a public resort. 

Narrow, short streets ran along on its four sides, turning 
sharp at the corners and intersecting the broad avenues 
at each end of the park. These avenues in turn ran to the 
business thoroughfares several blocks from the park, so 
that there was but little travel about the park after night, 
except an occasional interchange of visits between neigh- 
bors. 

Half-way the block on one side of the park was an alley 
— behind a pilaster of a high wall which cornered on this 
alley, stood Jack Demsy and John McGinnis, one, with 
his deadly sand bag, a weapon which completely kills 
one for the time, and yet the blow can be heard only a few 
feet. Some fool had planted the gas lamp directly behind 
a large tree, which threw its inky shadow across the street, 
and had so effectually curtained the entrance to the alley, 
that one could not see five feet beyond the opening; which 
made for them a very secure ambuscade. 

Bill had not more than gotten inside the park and se- 
creted himself behind a large tree, before a woman came 
through the opposite gate and made her way along the walk 
where Bill was hidden. 

As she neared the tree where Bill stood, he hugged close 
to the trunk, and like a squirrel dodging a hunter, kept the 



232 



MAUDELLE. 



tree between them. "By the gods," said he, "that is she. 
The dress, the hat, the quick step and the height of the 
woman, and the little basket she carries, all tally to a line. 
We will take her in." He stepped from behind the tree 
and followed fifty or sixty feet behind her with muffled 
feet, his tread made no noise. When she came within thirty 
feet of the ambuscade, she stopped, stood a minute, and 
then, as though throwing off some premonition of danger 
ahead, with a toss of her head, she stepped quickly on. 
She gained the alley — Bill stopped, gave three violent 
coughs — the quick movements of a man were seen — 
Maudelle fell forward; then all disappeared in the alley, 
and Bill knew that the first act of the drama had success- 
fully begun. 

He ran forward and fifty feet into the alley, where he 
found the parties awaiting his coming. John McGinnis 
held Maudelle in his arms. Her head had fallen back, 
and her arms were hanging down, giving her all the appear- 
ance of one dead. 

"Lay her down," said Bill — she was stretched out on 
the ground. "I will look after her, you fellows get every- 
thing else in readiness." 

Down on his knees — Bill stripped Maudelle of her 
wraps and shoes, and crammed them into a dirty sack, 
pulled out the hair pins and tangled her hair, and then, 
with a bandage brought under her chin and tied tight 
across the top of her head, she was rolled into a dirty, 
ragged blanket. 

By this time the other parties came up ready for the two- 
mile march to the house of Madam Dupree. The party 
consisted not only of the three kidnappers, but of two 
women and several children with luggage. These people 
had been employed to make the disguise more complete, 
by Bill carrying Maudelle as his sick wife, while the others 
carried chairs, tables and other kinds of household goods, 



233 



MAUDELLE. 



it had the appearance of very poor families moving. The 
deception was all that could be desired for success. Not 
only did the people on the street, but the police, as well, 
gave the parties the right of way. 

Between eleven and twelve o'clock that night, the jour- 
ney had been safely made, and the unconscious Maudelle 
was safely locked in Madam Dupree's slaughter house of 
human souls. 

Crondell had been there several hours, impatiently wait- 
ing and hoping for the consummation of the scheme. 

"Let me congratulate you gentlemen, for the skilful 
management of this affair," said he, as he handed the bal- 
ance of the two hundred and fifty dollars to Bill. 

The men departed, and Crondell went into the room to 
look at Maudelle, who was still unconscious, and, in fact, 
showed but very little signs of life. 

Looking down on her — as Madam Dupree was rubbing 
the cold, lifeless-looking hands and face of Maudelle, 
Crondell sighed deeply, bent over her, and laid his hand 
on her face and said, "Poor little thing! it is hard. You 
might have done better, if you would. Why force me to 
bring you to this?" 

It must have been a moment with him of deep sympathy 
and regret for her condition. It must have been a hasty 
return of the tender affection forcing its way up through the 
incrustations of a revengeful heart. 

Madam Dupree laughed, a hollow, soulless cackle, 
when the mouth merely opens, yet the features still retain 
their hard, original sternness. "Ah, ha!" said the old hag, 
"I see you are weakening." 

"No, not weakening," said he, "I find I have the heart 
of only a human being, while I assume the role of a beast." 

He turned on his heel to go. "I will be here tomorrow 
night; I cannot come here before, because I must not be 
seen in this neighborhood in daylight." 



2.34 



MAUDELLE. 



He came back to where Maudelle lay— stooped over her , 
and kissed her pale lips. "Good night/' said he, as a tear- 
dropped on her forehead, which he quickly wiped away 
with his handkerchief. 

"Madam," said he, "if she does not get through all right, 
or anything serious happens, send me word by one of our 
friends of the 'Crow's Roost.' Good night." He had 
gone. 

It was seven or eight o'clock the next morning before 
Maudelle regained consciousness. It came back, like a 
lost bird on weary wing, to its long-sought perch. It was 
not one of those gradual awakenings as it is with some, 
first the dreamy, uncertain semi-consciousness, then the 
full consciousness, as the mind slowly comes from its be- 
fogged environments to its active, normal condition. Na- 
ture, with one mighty impulse, summoned all her force and 
threw off the deadly effect of the sand bag, and Maudelle 
opened her eyes to a full realization of her imprisonment. 

The first object in sight was a haggard, decrepit, old 
woman, with gray hair protruding from under an ill-fitting 
red wig. She sat with her feet against a small drum- 
shaped stove, red with rust. It seemed that she and the 
stove were trying to keep each other warm by mutual 
agreement. 

The old woman sat with her side turned to Maudelle, 
busily sewing on some cheap garment. Thus absorbed 
she gave Maudelle a chance to study her without being ob- 
served. 

She wore carpet slippers on her short, thick feet. The 
original color of her dress was black; but this color had lost 
its title to priority by the preponderance of grease, patches 
and dirt. 

One of the fingers on the left hand was gone, and the 
three remaining were badly disfigured by abnormal growths 
at the joints. 



235 



MAUDELLE. 



Catarrh had undermined and carried away the nasal 
bones and palatine process, so that the arch of the nose had 
caved in, and left but the little nub of a nose sticking up 
at right angles with the face. In fact, the entire config- 
uration of the woman gave evidence of many years of un- 
satisfied want. The wrinkled, haggard face was an easily 
read index to a cold, wicked heart. 

Having studied the old woman, Maudelle's eyes swept 
around the little ten-by-twelve room, with a narrow, little 
door in one end and a window in the other closed in with 
bits of plank nailed on the inside. Large openings between 
the planks were the only means of admitting light. 

The plastering on the walls had long ago fallen off, ex- 
cept a patch here and there the size of the hand, as a proof 
of what w T as once there. 

Two rickety chairs, a rough stand on which sat a tin 
coal oil lamp without a chimney, and a cheap wash-bowl, 
with a piece broken out of its side, together with a very 
filthy bed, was all the room contained, except the stove 
already mentioned. 

"What does all this mean? Am I dead and in another 
world, and is that old woman one of the infernal keepers ? 
These were some of Maudelle's thoughts while she lay there 
without moving a muscle and scarcely daring to breathe. 

The old woman who had sat quiet, grinding away on 
something between her toothless gums, now turned her yel- 
low, sunken eyes abruptly on Maudelle, as though she had 
just decided to do something wicked. Maudelle quickly 
closed her eyes and lay motionless. 

The old woman got up and approached the bed, mut- 
tering and growling some unintelligible words as she passed 
her' cold, bony fingers over Maudelle's face, then down 
her bosom, and pressed them hard over her heart. The cold, 
knotty, rough fingers felt so much like iron spikes pressing 
their way to her heart, that an involuntary spasmodic 



236 



MAUDELLE, 



shudder ran through Maudelle 's body, and she could no 
longer contain herself — she screamed and sprang from 
the bed. 

The old woman with hands up, fell back against the wall, 
exclaiming in terror, "My God o 'mighty! gal, you scared 
me to death." 

''Where am I?" exclaimed Maudelle. Then throwing 
out her hands as if to find support, she sank down on the 
floor, while a death-like pallor passed over her face and 
swept away every feature of life. She had fainted. 

The twelve hours of unconscious prostration, the fright, 
and then the sudden, springing to an upright position, was 
a change too violent; the mind went down under the sur- 
charge. "O, where am I?" said she, as she opened her 
eyes, and looked into the faces of several haggard and pale- 
faced girls, whom Madam Dupree had summoned to her 
aid when Maudelle fainted. 

"Am I dead, and are you spirits, or are you living creat- 
ures?" 

One of the girls laughed a mean, tantalizing chuckle; 
but another, with some soul left, said, "Poor thing, it is 
too bad." 

Maudelle seized the girl by the hand. "Have I one 
friend here to help me?" said she. The old woman pushed 
the girl aside. 

"Get out of here, girls, get out," said she, as she pushed 
them out the door and locked it. Turning to Maudelle, 
she said, "Those girls are not the kind for you to make 
friends with." 

"Ah!" said Maudelle, "even dogs or the worst of people 
are better friends than no friends at all." She raised her- 
self up in bed, looked down on the black, filthy bed-clothes, 
tossed them aside, and got out again on the floor. For the 
first time she felt a stinging pain from a bruised and badly 
swollen place back of the ear. 



237 



MAUDELLE. 



"What does all this mean?" said she. 

The old woman then went through a long, well-studied 
explanation and told her that she had been knocked down 
and robbed, and that she had been brought there and cared 
for and that her friend would take her home in the even- 
ing. 

Maudelle listened attentively, while at the same time her 
mind ran back and traced itself to the park; and there 
memory ended. She knew that if she had been attacked 
and robbed near home, she never, would have been 
brought so far and placed in the hands of such people, 
unless for some ill design. 

She put such unanswerable questions to the old woman 
that she brought out the whole secret. She saw that she 
had fallen into a trap deeply laid by Crondell, from whicl 
there was no means of escape, unless it was through this 
old woman. 

Maudelle perceived that Madam Dupree was a hardened 
old wretch; but she had some hope of finding a spark of 
womanly tenderness somewhere beneath the black sins of 
the many years of her abandoned life. 

" Madam," said Maudelle, in the kindest way that she 
could, "will you please let me go home?" 

"No," said the old woman, abruptly. 

Then Maudelle appealed to her honor as a woman; 
but there was no honor in that curdled and sour nature. 
She appealed to her sympathy; but sympathy was unknown 
in that flinty heart. 

She plead for mercy; but, if the woman's heart was ever 
sensitive to mercy, it was now dead. 

She begged piteously for her friendship; but friendship, 
too, had long ago departed from that old criminal's breast. 

Then she asked for but simple justice; but Madam Dupree 
was a stockbroker in human souls, and justice, honesty and 
fair dealing were things unknown in her business. So she 

238 



MAUDELLE. 



sat gazing into Maudelle's face, without the change of a 
feature or the movement of a muscle of the face. 

" Will you please let me go home?" Maudelle asked again. 

"No," was the snappish answer. 

6 ' Then you propose to keep me in this stall, as you 
would an animal for slaughter?" asked Maudelle. 

" Yes," said the old hag, who kept on continuously chew- 
ing and staring into Maudelle's face, as unmoved as a mud 
turtle. Maudelle covered her face with her hands while 
the hot tears crept through her fingers and fell thick and 
fast upon the carpetless floor. 

She fully realized now that Madam Dupree was one of 
the vilest of the vile agents of the devil. She knew that 
the house was the last downward step in the ladder of crime 
—the very last between earth and perdition. 

She knew that the inmates were such as had been kicked 
down through all the gradations of sin, and that this rookery 
was the last and worst. 

She knew that this was the place where they would hang 
to life for a few hours, days or months, and then would 
curse, rot, and die. Or, like trash floating down stream, 
that lodges against an obstruction for a minute, or until 
a puff of wind breaks its hold and it goes on dowTL 

These inmates in their downward whirl, merely get foot- 
hold here for an hour or so; then comes a blast from hell, 
and they are dislodged and swept down to the great mael- 
strom of damnation. 

Maudelle knew that the Holy Spirit never crossed the 
threshold of that house, but merely stood guard at the en- 
trance, to place the label of damnation upon each aban- 
doned soul as it passes in. 

At last the long, gloomy day ended, and gave place 
to a night filled with blacker threatenings for Maudelle. 
Footsteps of a man were heard climbing the stairs, thence 
along the narrow hall and stopping at the door, 



239 



MAUDELLE. 



Maudelle's heart stopped its beating, every fibre of her 
body was quivering with alarm. She thought that she 
was dying, and rather hoped she was. 

A tap on the door was like the stroke of a sledge hammer 
on her heart. As Madam Dupree got up to open the door, 
Maudelle gasped a whisper — " Please don't let him in." 
The old hag merely laughed, or rather answered with a cold, 
mocking grin. She unlocked the door, and went out, 
and locked it after her. There was a whispering and mut- 
tering at the door for a few minutes, then the key turned 
in the lock, the door swung back and Crondell stepped inside 
the room, locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. 

Now that Crondell stood before her, and that she was 
cognizant of the fact that the struggle between them would 
be a hand-to-hand encounter, all fear and timidity left her, 
while the latent powers of her womanhood came back to 
sustain her. 

Madam Dupree had no doubt assured Crondell that she 
was humbled, resigned to her inevitable fate, and would 
cower in his presence and be an easy prey to his desire. 

But to his surprise he saw the reverse was true. Know- 
ing her bitter, uncompromising repugnance to every phase 
of immorality, as he did, it does seem that he should have 
expected nothing but war to the death. 

When he looked into her face, he plainly saw fight to the 
last drop of blood. Not a parry of words this time, but a 
measure of physical strength until one or the other should 
be slain. 

And if it should come to that, he well knew he would be 
overmatched. He knew that she was an expert athlete, 
and carefully trained in the science of self-defense with the 
fist as well as with sword and firearms, while he had never 
taken any especial interest in such amusements. 

He was only a medium-sized man. Nature had given 
him a large and beautifully shaped head, but had been 

240 



MAUDELLE. 



niggardly sparing with material for other parts of the body; 
while Maudelle was tall, muscular and well-developed, 
and as quick of action as a cat. 

While facing each other, she seemed to tower up 
before him like a defiant giantess, her eyes flashing ven- 
geance and utter contempt for what he gloated over as a 
victory. 

Her state was very much like that of an entrapped wild 
animal, which becomes enraged and driven to madness 
by unmerciful goads and w r ounds, until it seems to lose all 
interest in life, and would even scorn proffered release on 
any terms, except blood for blood. It holds to life, and 
checks death witn a kind of potential power, until the op- 
portunity comes to strike down its captor with a deadly 
blow, and then dies of its own will. 

He saw this, and was evidently foiled and thrown off his 
guard and plans of procedure, and was totally at a loss, 
how and where to begin. 

In order to gain time to formulate other plans, he began 
a foolish comparison of the room and its furniture w T ith her 
costly apartments at her home. 

"My dear, little black-eyed darling,'' said he, "you have 
a beautiful home here, so unlike the one in which I met, 
courted and kissed you. 

"I am glad that I can visit you, and take as many kisses 
as I choose, and the world's big eyes cannot look in upon 
us. 

"You see that there is but one door to this chamber, 
and to that I hold the key, so that you cannot insult me, 
run out and slam the door in my face." 

"Thomas Crondell," said she, "nothing but the actual 
facts as I see them could have convinced me that you 
were capable of stultifying your manhood, and sinking be- 
low the level of the meanest brute of the forest, as you have 
done. 



241 



MAUDELLE. 



"Can it be possible that a refined and cultured Chris- 
tian mother has given birth to such a monster; with a 
soul so warped and distorted that it renders you unfit 
for the society of men, or a companion for a decent 
beast ? 

"Is it possible that you, with your boasted learning 
and claim to honor, can have a heart so black, a soul so 
filthy, that you stand before me disrobed of every prin- 
ciple of manhood, and dwindle to a mere contemptible 
thing ? 

"If it is your intention — as you have threatened— to 
ruin me and to bring me to your inhuman level, I warn 
you of the danger of such an attempt. 

"If you have any further use for your worthless life; 
I advise you to unlock that door and let me go from this 
wicked place." 

"Wicked place, wicked," said he in a tone of irony, 
in an attempt heedlessly to throw off the sharp and scath- 
ing reprimand of Maudelle. 

"No place can be wicked where you are," continued 
he. "Even this little filthy dog kennel has become as 
attractive as a palace inlaid with gold and studded with 
diamonds. The soiled, vermin-stained sheets and greasy 
blankets are transformed into fine linen and purple satin 
by the lustre of your lovely eyes. The poor, little, three- 
legged, rusty stove, that is striving hard to keep itself 
warm, will soon become as beautiful in your presence 
as Solomon's altar in the holy of holies. The poor, 
little, motherless lamp, which is struggling and breath- 
ing hard to give us light, by pouring forth its volumes 
of carboniferous gas, will soon be a golden censer, and you 
a nd I—" 

"Mr. Crondell," said Maudelle— interrupting his tan- 
talizing jargon, "I demand of you to open that door and 
let me go to my home." 



242 



MAUDELLE. 



"O no, O no," said he, in a tone of hateful mockery. 
"I cannot trust you out alone to-night. You and I will 
remain here, at least until morning, and it may be for sev- 
eral days. 

"I have this to say, and you may as well understand it 
now and submit to your fate. You are mine, absolutely 
mine, whether you will or not, you have no say. 

" There was a time when you had it in your power to 
become my wife and preserve your honor; but you chose 
to be a fool, and hatefully insulted me when I gave you 
good advice, now, my young lady, it is in my power to make 
you my substitute for a wife, to your shame. 

"When I have satisfied my vengeance, I will then turn 
you out upon the street, that you may go through life with 
the consciousness that you are no better than the inmates 
of this ' wicked place/ as you call it. 

"You will learn more both of me and the place in less 
than twenty-four hours from now, and you cannot go until 
I say go, though an angel from heaven demand your release." 

"A God from heaven will demand of you an answer 
of why you will not," said she. 

"If you have so much faith in a God, w T hy is it you are 
here? The fact is, I have outwitted both you and your 
God," said he, with lips curled. "Maudelle Morroe/' 
said Crondell, "'this useless colloquy must end. You must 
submit to my will — if not by gentle means — then you must 
by force. I say, by heavens ! you are my victim, wholly 
at my disposal." 

Maudelle was goaded beyond further forbearance. 
That rich, aristocratic, Kentucky blood rose in its might, 
and she was every inch a woman whose purity of soul 
defied the vile touch of Crondell's finger. 

"When you boast thus, you lie/' said she. "You never, 
never can blacken the purity of my character while life 
lasts. Loss of my good name and character with me would 



243 



MAUDELLE. 



be equal to loss of life; and I want to tell you that, sooner 
than yield a hair's breadth to your brutish will, I will die 
in this room with my fingers in your throat.' ' 

He extended both hands and advanced a step tow r ard 
her. She raised a threatening, clenched hand. "Stop! 
you black-hearted wretch, stop where you are," said she, 
while the tears were streaming down her face. 

Crondell mistook her tears for tears of fear, of weakness 
and resignation to inevitable fate. 

But not so. They were tears in which the human soul 
had summed up the whole of its potential power, and stood 
ready to put that power into the last blow, in defense of 
honor and virtue, and to make that blow the hardest and 
the most bloody, as a closing climax of life. 

"I defy you to touch me," said she, "in the name of the 
living God and my dead father. Try it, if you dare, and 
this night you or I will go into eternity." 

Crondell knew enough of her decision of character, to 
be sure that what she said was an uncompromising chal- 
lenge to a deadly combat, and it w r ould not do to accept 
it. He knew also that the odds were decidedly against 
him, from the fact that she would fight whole-hearted 
for the preservation of her virtue, while he would fight for 
a purpose too damnably low and brutish to hope for 
success. 

But so as not to betray his weakness, or rather fear, he 
began to tantalize her thus: 

"My darling, wipe the tears from those bewitching eyes, 
and come to the arms of your own love. Come now, and 
let us make the best of the occasion!" holding out his hands 
as he advanced another step toward her, as though to em- 
brace her. 

Her little fist shot out like a flash, and landed hard and 
sharp in CrondelPs neck, and he went to the floor full 
length. 



244 



MAUDELLE. 



She stood in her tracks and waited for him to come 
back. He sprang to his feet, burning with rage and 
shame. 

"By heavens !" yelled he, "you will be sorry for that, 
for I will have no more of your d — foolishness. It has cost 
me money to get you here, and I will not be defeated of 
my purpose. If kind persuasion will not do, then you shall 
have harsher treatment and plenty of it. Will you cease 
to be a fool, and be my friend, and thereby save your life? 
Speak, Maudelle Morroe, for by the gods ! your life hangs 
on the ends of my fingers/' 

" Never will I submit to your vile, brutish purpose, while 
the God of heaven inspires my soul with life to resist," 
said she, in a voice of intense earnestness, which meant an 
unchanged ultimatum. 

"'All right, all right! my lady, you will strike a different 
key when the dance begins in earnest. I will call to my 
assistance inmates of this house. We will down you, we 
will gag you, and I will treat you as you deserve." This 
said, he unlocked the door, rushed out, slammed it after 
him, locked it, and hurried down stairs. 

Maudelle put her ear to the keyhole. She heard Crondell 
talking loud and very excitedly in the lower part of the house. 
She could not understand what he said, except one or two 
words, which were, "Yes, I will — or kill her." 

She seized the door knob, and applied all her strength, 
but it held fast. 

She stood a moment as in deep meditation, then looking 
up with hands clasped, she recited those beautiful passages 
from the Bible which Aunt Millie had taught her, when 
she was but four or five years old; she had never forgotten 
the old nurse's admonition, which was: 

"Honey, keep dese words stored away in yo' heart, and 
when trouble comes, tell God of His promise, and He must 
answer and come to yo\" 



245 



MAUDELLE. 



The passages which Maudelle hastily recited, were these: 

"G Lord, attend unto my cry 

for I am brought very low: 

Deliver me from my persecutors 

for they are stronger than I. 

Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man; 

preserve me from the violent man. 

Deliver, O Lord, from my enemies: 

I flee unto Thee to hide me." 

Then she was silent a moment, as though awaiting an 
answer. The following verses were an answer in full : 

"He shall deliver thee in six 
troubles; yea, in seven there shall 
no evil touch thee." 

Then in a voice full of hope and calm resignment, she 
merely whispered, "Dear Lord, I hold Thee to Thy prom- 
ise—all my hope is stayed in Thee." 

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They tramped 
along the hall and halted at the door. There was mutter- 
ing and whispering. Maudelle knew they were plotting 
tor her ruin, but she was calm and unmoved by any alarm 
or fear for her safety. 

What she would do, or could do, was not in her mind, 
more than to do her best to meet the emergency as it 
developed. 

She felt, somehow, that there was a power back of her 
which more than supplemented the power of innumerable 
millions of worlds. 

The click, click of the key was heard, the door swung 
back, and Crondell with rope in hand stepped into the 
room, closely followed by Madam Dupree, and the tall. 



246 



MAUDELLE. 



muscular, red-haired girl, who had seemed to sympathize 
with Maudelle when she fainted that morning ; but now 
the girl's face was stern and cold, without a sign of sym- 
pathy for Maudelle. She came in last, and took her stand 
at the door as guard. 

"And you, too?" said Maudelle, as she looked inquiring- 
ly into the girl's face. 

"Yes, me too/' was the positive, stiff answer that came 
from between her compressed lips, which meant immov- 
able firmness in every venture. 

Madam Dupree, who was very anxious for the fray, 
sprang upon Maudelle like a hungry wolf. Maudelle 
wheeled around, and dealt the old hag a blow in the face 
which sent her behind the stove in a pile. The old woman 
squalled like a hyena. "Good God O'mighty! What 
do you mean?" At the same time Crondell ran up behind 
Maudelle, threw his arms about her, with the attempt to 
pinion her arms down. With lightning speed, Maudelle 
punched backward with both elbows, which took Crondell 
just below his ribs, and sent him hard against the wall. 

Crazed with anger, he cried out at the top of his voice, 
"By Jupiter! I will kill her." He seized an old, wooden- 
bottom stool by the legs, swung it back over his head, and 
with the vicious grin of a murderer, rushed on Maudelle, 

At this juncture, the red-haired girl sprang between him 
and Maudelle, and thrust a pistol in Crondell's face, ex- 
claiming in a voice that meant to be obeyed, "Back, back, 
you infernal black-hearted dog, or I will send your worth- 
less soul to a devil's hell in a minute." 

Crondell fell back against the wall, dropped the stool, 
and stood gazing at the girl in bewilderment. 

"What does this mean?" said Crondell. 

"It means," said the girl, "that I am going to protect 
the honor of this young lady, if it costs my life and yours 
or as manv more as mav choose to come/' 



247 



MAUDELLE. 



"'Ann, Ann!" said Madam Dupree, "that is no way to 

do." 

Ann leveled her pistol on the old woman. "Not one 
word from you, Madam Dupree. I pay you for the mis- 
erable fare I get, and that ends my obligation with you. 
Any other interference, and you and I will have a new bus- 
iness to settle on this spot." 

Madam Dupree knew enough of the girl's physical 
power and combative temper not to dictate to her again. 
She had seen Ann whip three girls at one time, and at 
another, cut a man nearly to death with a razor wrenched 
from his hand, with which he was trying to cut her. 

"Young lady," said Ann, "you may pass out and wait 
in the hall for me." 

To Crondell she said, "You, sir, owe your life to the dar- 
ing bravery of the young woman you were trying to ruin. 
Although wounded and weak from the cruel treatment of 
your agents in the crime, she held you at bay, until like a 
coward you ran for help. 

"You did not know that I was at the door with axe in 
hand, ready to break in, and w r ould have killed you without 
ceremony, had you laid violent hands on her. 

"You are one of the many with money, who are hell's 
catch dogs to fill these places of vice with ruined and 
broken-hearted girls, who have no other alternative for 
existence, but to peddle away their souls for scraps and 
crumbs, which your dogs would refuse to eat. 

"Five years ago, my hope for an upright, chaste and happy 
future was all that any girl could desire. But I was flat- 
tered, petted, courted, promised and lied to, until I was 
ruined. Then I was shunned, neglected and scorned, and 
finally driven to this last retreat and lowest depth into 
which a human being can fall. 

"Having felt the sting, I will never see another victim 
added to the long list of sufferers, without exerting my 



248 



MAUDELLE. 



personal efforts to save them," This said, she left the room, 
locked the door, broke the key off in the lock, with the re- 
mark, "You two are there for the night." 

When Crondell hired the room from Madam Dupree, he 
had a new patent lock put on the door, which no key would 
fit, except the one especially made for it. Now that Ann 
had left the end of the broken key in the lock, no one could 
remove it and unlock the door but a skilful locksmith, 
who could not be had at that hour of the night. 

Maudelle stood in the hall leaning against the wall, 
weak and exhausted from having taken no nourishment 
of an}' kind in more than twenty-four hours. Then the 
terrible ordeal through which she had gone, was a tension 
on the physical and nervous system, which but few could 
have sustained. A badly swollen, external bruise from 
the sand bag, an ignorant and too free use of chloroform, 
and an undue exertion of physical force to defend herself 
against the savage attacks of Crondell, had left her with 
but little energy, when not under excitement. 

Maudelle threw her arms about Ann's neck, and, with a 
voice tremulous with thanksgiving, said, "My dear friend, 
you have been selected as God's agent to save me. Ten 
minutes ago, I saw no hope, and yet I felt no fear. Now 
I see it all. You were to save me, and I am to save you from 
a condition for which you were not born." 

Holding to Maudelle 's hand, Ann led her through dark 
passages, down to the lower floor. 

"Now," said Ann, "Madam Dupree has hidden away 
your wraps and other valuables for her own use, but I will 
find them or tear this rookery to pieces." 

A few minutes' search brought the goods to light, and 
the two women dressed and stepped out into the dark, 
as a distant town clock struck eleven. 



249 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



BACK FROM A DEN OF LOST SOULS. 

With her arm around Maudelle, and pistol held in the 
folds of her dress, Ann set out to pilot Maudelle a two- 
miles journey, from a dungeon of vice and habitation of 
lost souls back to her home of peace and plenty, and to the 
loving arms of friends. 

As the two women wended their way through poorly- 
lighted and deserted streets in the low part of the town, 
Ann kept a sharp lookout for night prowlers. 

"My- dear woman," said Maudelle to Ann, "you have a 
good heart, and a nature too noble and daring to be lost in 
Madam Dupree's filthy, miserable den. 

" Of course I have no right to ask you why you made such 
a place your choice, yet I cannot believe but that you have 
been driven to it unwillingly. Of one thing you may be 
certain, I am greatly interested in you, and you shall never 
have cause to return there for want of bread." 

"I have a history," said Ann, "which has both its light 
and dark phases, and which you shall know if you have the 
patience to hear it." 

Maudelle assured Ann that she was more than anxious 
to hear the story of her life. 

We have space for only a few, brief outlines of the girl's 
interesting history. 

She was left an orphan at the age of eighteen months, 
much too young to know anything about parental care and 
affection. She was adopted and educated by an old maid, 
who seemed to think the world was made for but one per- 
son, and that person was her long, lank, squint-eyed self. 

250 



MAUDELLE. 



To move a chair, a book or any article from the place she 
put it, was an unpardonable crime. So things usually 
stayed in the same place for years, almost as permanently 
as though they grew there. Ann was forever in a straight 
jacket, each step had to be just a certain number of inches 
apart and on a given angle. 

At meals, the fork had to carry a measured quantity of 
food to the mouth, and pass between the plate and lips on 
the turn of each minute. 

Despite the old maid's effort to give the girl a hideous 
appearance in her outlandish style of dress, still she was 
quite handsome. 

After completing a common school education, she was 
given a thorough training in the milliner's art. 

She finished the trade when eighteen, and got a position 
in a wholesale and retail house. The son of the proprietor 
— twenty-two years of age — began paying special attention 
to Ann on the sly. 

She doubted his sincerity, because he was rich and she 
was only a poor working girl. However he confessed his 
affection for her, owing to her beauty, as he put it. 

To give stronger evidence of his honorable intentions, 
he not only promised to marry her, but rilled out and gave 
her a deed to a very handsome residence, which he said 
was to be their home. 

With this assurance she fell a victim to his brutish desire. 

He deferred their marriage from time to time on hatched- 
up excuses. In a short time her condition forced her to 
leave the store. Her foster-mother drove her from the 
house. Without home, money or w T ork, her condition was 
alarming and she became desperate. She went to the man, 
the agent of her ruin, and demanded that he marry her, 
or she would expose him. He abused her, spat in her face, 
with the remark, "I would rather die and go to hell, than 
to marry a poor wench of your standing/' 

2 S 1 



MAUDELLE. 



"Then you shall die," said Ann. She went out, got a 
pistol, went back to the store and shot him in the presence 
of his father. The ball cut away his nose, glanced into and 
destroyed his right eye, and lodged in the frontal bone. 

She gave herself up to the authorities of the law, and was 
put in jail. The wound was not fatal, but it gave her se- 
ducer's face a frightful appearance. Ann could not give 
bail, so she was kept in jail nearly three months, or until 
the wounded man had sufficiently recovered to attend 
court. 

She was too poor to employ a lawyer, so the court ap- 
pointed a young man of no legal ability or experience. 
Her seducer brought a charge of blackmailing against hen 
and the charge would have been sustained but for an old, 
experienced lawyer, who saw the injustice aimed at, and 
volunteered to defend her free of charge. 

When the old lawyer rose to his feet, a hush ran through 
the court room. 

Said he, "I have come forward to defend the young 
woman . not because I condone the sin and crime of a 
woman, but it is because I know, as you do, gentlemen, 
that this woman has not sinned alone. She has evidently 
had a partner, and I apprehend that, of the two, the male 
partner has been the larger stockholder in the business. 
He has been the promoter, the manager, the chief officer, 
the low, mean deceptive aggressor. He has, by his cun- 
ning stratagem and sugar-coated promises, succeeded in 
blasting the life, hope and happiness of a fatherless and 
motherless defenceless girl, whose life and soul hangs be- 
tween the judges of the two worlds. Gentlemen, if you 
would brand one, brand both; but with this difference; 
push the burning, smoking, hot iron deeper into the flesh 
of the manlthan of the woman, because she has lost all, 
and he nothing.;! 'She* has lost employment, home, friends, 
good name, standing in society, and even public sympathy 



252 



MAUDELLE. 



— the cheapest of all. She has lost character and virtue, 
which she never, never can regain at any price. She can 
never be the same sweet, innocent, pure and chaste maiden 
she was twelve months ago. But her seducer, murderer, 
villain, will be the same honorable gentleman, in society's 
estimation. You tell me the girl has fallen; I grant your 
charge. But she has not gone down alone, nor can she 
reach the low, smirchy depths of the seducer who so 
cunningly set the dead fall and sprang the trigger, and 
now, to add another coat of blackness to his damnable 
crime, he brings into court a charge of blackmailing 
against her. 

"I have here in my hands documents with which I pro- 
pose to uncover his crime and hold him up to the contempt 
and disgust of his best friends." 

Here the lawyer read aloud several endearing letters 
which the young man had sent to Ann, in which he had 
addressed her as his loving, intended wife. Then he read 
the deed to property which he never owned. On this 
evidence Ann was acquitted. 

But unfortunately, she was a woman, and the world 
had no place in its bosom to shield a fallen woman. Even 
the followers of Christ feigned deafness to the appeals of 
a sinking woman, turned their backs and walked off beyond 
the reach of the sufferer, with a feeling, if not the open re- 
mark of, "I thank God I am not as other people." 

Ann's condition was exactly this. She said that actual 
starvation drove her to a den of vice. 

When Ann had finished her story , she looked into the 
face of Maudelle, and expected the same, monotonous an- 
swer, she had so often heard: "I am sorry for you," was 
all she had ever gotten before. 

But she had found a true woman in the person of Maud- 
elle, in whose heart there was something else to give besides 
cold, worthless ami unmeant sorrow. 



2 53 



MAUDELLEe 



This sympathy which Ann needed and which Maudelle 
was going to give was not a stingy, stiff, conventional sym- 
pathy which has in it neither soul nor truth. But it was 
a warm, responsive outpouring of a heart — like the always 
open doois of the great St. Peter's Cathedral at Rome- 
ready at lal hours to receive those who come seeking the 
way to a better life. 

Moreover the heart of Maudelle had also been wounded, 
crushed and made tender and flexible by the ruthless heel 
of oppression; and she had thus learned how to answer 
the appeal of a kindred sufferer. 

She put her hand on Ann's shoulder and said, " My dear 
friend, the story of your life is full of interest for me. I 
say interest, but it is not in the sense that it is pleasing to 
me, nor that I congratulate you on having suffered a living, 
isolated, moral death. 

"But the fact is, I discover evidence of the hidden hand 
of a kind Providence back of us. It is apparent to me, 
that God has some important work for you to do, and that 
He sent me after you — through an ill-designing person, it is 
true— but it will work out to the blessing of both you and me ; 
so let us be grateful for this much of the outcome. 

"You have saved me from disgrace, and perhaps death. 
Now I am going to save you from want, and a condition 
for which a woman of your generous, noble heart was never 
born. 

This night shall be the beginning of a new and useful 
life for you. Think no more of the past, or, if remembered 
at all, let it be only as a soul reference when other sufferers 
come to you for help. 

"Then away with what you have been, and devote the 
best efforts of your life to what you shall be. The future 
is all yours; rise out of your environment, despite the cir- 
cumstance of yesterday. Make no humiliating concessions 
t o your enemies, nor to society for a place within its circle. 



2 54 



MAUDELLE. 



Hold up your head, and look mankind in the face, and walk 
the earth in the dignity and the God-given rights of your 
womanhood, with full assurance, that with God on your 
side, you have as much right to be happy as the purest 
saint on earth." 

By this time they had reached the home of Maudelle. 
Ann's head hung down upon her bosom, as she sobbed like 
a sorrowing, motherless child. Her heart had been deeply 
touched by Maudelle's kind and encouraging words. The 
long-buried confidence in mankind and God was reclaiming 
its former place in her crushed and bleeding heart. Pen- 
itent tears were responding to the hungry, starving soul, 
and were crystalizing themselves into a faithfully-kept res- 
olution to live a chaste and pure life. 

Maudelle wrote a few words on a slip of paper, gave it 
to Ann, and directed her to a hotel where she was to stay 
until Maudelle should call for her, which would be in a few 
days. 

It was long after midnight when the two women parted. 

Lights were in full blaze in every part of the Gillispie 
residence, and the family and other friends were up and 
waiting for words of hope and encouragement from police 
headquarters, of some trace of Maudelle's whereabouts. 

Maudelle gave the door bell her usual and peculiar ring. 
Servants, family and friends made a wild rush for the door. 
Mrs. Gillispie — mother-like — pushed ahead, crying u O, 
that is my child, my child. O! let me have my child." 

She threw the door wide, and Maudelle sprang into her 
open arms. The two sank down on a lounge in the hall, 
and neither they nor any one of those present spoke for 
several minutes. 

It was a time when joy had reached its extreme limita- 
tion, and the tension drawn on nature would not stand the 
additional strain of a feather's weight, or like a cloud-burst 
the soul would have been forced from its moorings by the 



255 



MAUDELLE. 



overwhelming surcharge of joy. Thus Mrs. Gillispie wisely 
kept silent until the flood tide of the soul ebbed. At Maud- 
elle's age, there was more margin of life on which to trust 
a word, and she was the first to speak. 

"Dear mother," said she, "I have come back to you your 
same Maudelle, safe and sound." Then she explained 
in detail all that she had gone through, with which the reader 
is familiar. 

Dr. Gillispie and others present insisted on prosecuting 
Crondell to the fullest extent of the law, but Maudelle ad- 
vised leniency owing to the standing of his parents, and 
more especially out of consideration for his mother, whose 
feeble condition and great age could not have sustained the 
shock; so Crondell was allowed to go free for the time. 



256 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



THE MOST UNKIND CUT OF ALL." 

"A good night's work, boys," said Bill Duncan, as he 
drew from his pocket a roll of bank bills which Crondell 
had paid him according to contract. 

The men under Bill were so intensely eager for their share 
of the money, they w T ould not wait until they got to their 
den, but clamored for a division at once. Drawing close 
together under the dim light of a street lamp, each man 
was given his share. 

In right of his daring leadership Bill should have had a 
larger portion than the other two. But he disclaimed any 
right to superior advantages over his comrades, which ev- 
idenced the fact that he had a generous heart and some sense 
of honor, despite the fact he was engaged in the lowest 
calling known to man. 

When Bill took the loosely rolled bills from his pocket, 
the photo of Maudelle and the contract between Crondell 
and the kidnappers were pulled out, and fell to the ground 
unnoticed by the men, who w r alked off and did not discover 
the loss until next day, w T hen it w r as too late to recover the 
articles. 

That "pest", the small boy, who is always on hand to see, 
know T and tell everything, was the first to pass that spot 
early the next morning. " Jimmie Crimmie! what a pretty 
gal," said one of the boys w r ho had picked up Maudelle's 
photo. Then for several minutes the three boys tried to 
decipher the meaning of the contract, in which the photo 
was wrapped, Finally they decided to take their findings 
to the printing office for which they sold papers, 



MAUDELLE. 



Once the mysterious document got into the hands of the 
editor, it soon came to the public with stinging rebuke on 
U T. C.", the unknown offender. 

Fortunately for Crondell he had taken the precaution 
to put himself on the contract as "T. C", which left the 
public in doubt as to the person for which "T. C", stood. 

As Ann had predicted, it was afterwards learned that 
Crondell and Madam Dupree had to camp together that 
night in the "pit" they had prepared for Maudelle. 

Crondell had suspected for some time that Maudelle 
was in some way obligated to a man in the South, which 
he assigned as the principal reason for her conduct toward 
him. On searching her clothes the night she was kidnapped, 
he found a letter from Lawrence Deleno of New Orleans. 
This gave him the long-coveted information, and also gave 
him an opportunity to further his inhuman scheme of re- 
venge against her. The first thing Crondell did after re- 
leasing himself from the den of Madam Dupree, was to 
send a long telegram to Lawrence Deleno, under the guise 
of one of Maudelle's lady friends, who claimed to be sorely 
grieved over the moral fall of Maudelle. 

This supposed lady friend said in the telegram, that 
Maudelle had been suspected of immoral conduct for a 
long time, and that she had been shadowed and traced to 
one of the lowest houses of ill-fame in Boston in order to 
protect an innocent and honorable man against anything 
like a union for life with such a woman; hence the telegram 
as a warning. 

When Lawrence received the message, he did as too 
many do when brought face to face with a great and un- 
expected trouble— allowed passion and excitement to take 
control of his reason, and hurry him into rash and impet- 
uous conclusions, for which he was afterward sorry. 

He sprang to his feet with his teeth gnashing and, bring- 
ing his clenched fist down heavily upon hi desk, said, "By 

258 



MAUDELLE. 



heavens! this day shall end my obligation with Maudelle 
Monroe, and I will teach myself to hate her as intensely 
as I have loved her. I believe now that Pope was right when 
he said: 

'True virtue is hard to find, 

Much lesb in womankind, 

But if her virtues should prove 

The larger share , 

Bless your good fortune and 

Think your chance w r as rare.' 

" Perhaps I deserve just such treatment at her hands to re- 
mind me that I was a fool to put faith in a woman, w T hose 
only proof of moral purity was what I knew of her in 
childhood. She is the only woman I have been fool enough 
to love; and she will be the last. 

"Away with the entire world of womankind! there are 
none good; I hate the name of woman. 

"I will write to her; she shall have my mind without 
reserve. I wish I could forge every word into a dagger 
that would torture and wound her deceptive heart, that she 
might be driven to incurable madness throughout every 
moment of her life." 

With nervous hand he wrote the following letter and hur- 
ried it off to Maudelle: 

"New Orleans, La., October 10th, 1869. 
Miss Maudelle Morroe, 
Boston, Mass. 
"X am authoritatively informed by a lady friend of yours 
whom you have aggrieved and driven from you by your 
sinful conduct — which she nor any other decent person can 
countenance— that you have morally fallen to the lowest 
depths of human depravity, 



259 



MAUDELLE. 



'She tells me that you were seen, by witnesses she can 
produce, coming from a house of disreputable character, 
at a late hour of the night, locked arm in arm with Ann 
Bailey, a vile character and inmate of the house. 

"I am told that you were accompanied there by three 
men known to be three of Boston's most degraded and vile 
characters, and that you must have remained with them, 
rioting in sin the entire twenty-four hours you were absent 
from your home. 

U I am told that your name is now a black synonym of 
crime, hatefully passed from lip to lip among those who 
were once your friends. 

"True to my obligation, I have lived above reproach; 
I have established for myself an unblemished moral char- 
acter, of which I am proud. 

"Since you have chosen the other course in life — one of 
shame rather than of honor and moral purity — I have this 
hour determined never to couple my fate with yours, and 
I now and forever release you and myself from all obliga 
tions which have heretofore bound us together. 

"From this hour our pathways will lead in opposite di- 
rections—and may God forbid that they ever cross, or even 
run so near as to bring us in sight of each other again in this 
life. 

"Good-bye to you forever, and greatly oblige me by not 
troubling me with a letter of explanation, or an excuse for 
your conduct; no such letter will be received or read by me, 
for I am ashamed of your name, and I wish I never had 
known it. 

Lawrence Deleno." 

On the same day that Lawrence had sent his letter to 
Maudelle, the night mail brought him one from her. He 
knew that she had not yet received his letter, and it was 
not an answer. 



260 



MAUDELLE. 



However as he had resolved never to read an}' more 
letters from her, he felt bound by a promise, and, like King 
Herod, he regarded the sanctity of a promise of more im- 
portance than a human life. 

When her letter was handed to him, he knit his brows, 
and with an air of cold indifference pitched it unopened into 
the waste-basket, turned in his easy chair and looked out 
of the window at nothing. 

Despite every effort to give himself up to other thoughts , 
his head would involuntarily turn toward the basket in which 
lay the letter. He appeared unintentionally to move his 
chair near the basket so as to look down on her letter. 
Because not to look at it became impossible. Then he could 
not resist the temptation to turn it over so as to see his name 
on it by that bewitching, familiar handwriting. 

Once his fingers touched the letter, its influence be- 
came like a live wire, which one cannot release, although it 
is surely killing him. 

He held the letter between his palms a long time, then 
with the quickness of thought, as though he had resolved 
to be no longer a fool, tore the letter open and began to 
read its contents. His hands trembled, perspiration ran 
down his face and blinded him. He laid the letter on the 
desk and paced the floor back and forth several times, 
then tried to finish the reading. Inclosed was the con- 
tract drawn between Crondell and the kidnappers, which 
Dr. Gillispie had got from the JournaVs office. Also 
Maudelle had inclosed in her letter slips cut from the news- 
papers. \ | 

Lawrence saw his mistake.^' Heavy sighs came up from 
his burning heart, as he paced rapidly back and forth across 
the room. 

There was no way to intercept that unkind letter of his. 
It had gone a day already— the damage was as good as 
done — and he had no alternative but to await results, 



261 



MAUDELLE. 



He cursed himself as an ignorant, impulsive fool, without 
the discretion of an idiot. " Why," said he, " did I not think 
that the telegram might possibly be a wilful forgery ? Why 
did I not act more manly by communicating with her for 
an explanation? This would have been just, especially 
since our relation gave her this right. I go for a lawyer, 
and yet I could not see that much of a simple proposition. 
For want of common sense I have lost her, lost the world 
and myself — committed moral suicide and destroyed all that 
is worth living for. When the incentive which prompts one 
to live is taken away, life may as well be taken also, because 
its prolongation without hope, and without, at least, one 
friend to share in our joy and sorrows, one friend at whose 
feet we may lay the burdens of life — without this, I say, 
life is a daily death, and earth is the worst hell that can punish 
a human soul. 

"Maudelle, Maudelle! You have always been my cen- 
tral figure of the earth to influence my destiny, form my 
character, heighten my purpose, strengthen me to ward 
off temptation, encourage my efforts to great achieve- 
ments, and you have kept me in love with God and 
mankind. 

"Great God, bring back my friend, my hopes, mv 
all! 

"How forcibly apply these sacred lines to my case:— 

' Return, O holy dove, return, 
Sweet messenger of rest: 
I hate the sin that made thee mourn 
And drove thee from my breast. 5 " 

Six days after Lawrence's damaging letter to Maudelle, 
came the answer from her^ of which the following is a tran- 
script:— 



262 



MAUDELLE. 



"Boston, Mass., Oct. 4, 1869. 
Mr. Lawrence Deleno, Atty. at Law, 

New Orleans, La. 
Dear Sir:— 

"Only a few minutes ago I received your letter under date 
of the 10th inst, and its message to me has been noted in 
detail. 

"Notwithstanding your request that I do not write to 
you again, it is asking a favor of me which I cannot grant 
you, because it is unreasonable, and my sense of honor 
will not allow me to be so unjust to myself, especially since 
you have so readily and willingly jomed hands with an en- 
emy to ruin my name and character. 

"The tone of your letter, is so unlike what my relation 
to you gave me a right to expect, that at first I tried to 
persuade myself to believe that I was under the influ- 
ence of a delusive dream. But however much I wished 
it to vanish as a myth, it holds its place as a reality, and it 
is my business to reply, and yours to read it or not, as you 
choose. 

"I am rather inclined to the optimistic principle, and 
with a strong faith in, 'whatever is, is right,' and that nothing 
can happen but that which evolves from the same law by 
which the world and world-life were created. When I am 
conscious of having done that which is right, according to 
my standard of religious and moral ethics, outside influence 
affects me very little, except it is to teach me a new lesson 
and add a chapter to my little stock of knowledge. 

"The vicious attack that you and your joint conspirator 
have made upon my character, has given me a further in- 
sight into the weakness, infidelity and treacherousness of 
the human heart; and what was meant for my downfall, 
will work to my good, in the sense that I am made stronger, 
and will know better how to fortify myself against the in- 
sults of an enemv in the future. 



263 



MAUDELLE. 



"Your letter has given me the key to your principle, 
and has also shown me that I wofully misplaced my con- 
fidence, when I reciprocated w T hat I took for your affection 
for me. But I congratulate myself that your thrust at 
me has come in time to save me from any closer relation 
with you, which otherwise would have plunged me into a 
whirlpool of perpetual misery. 

" 'Release yourself from all obligation with me,' you say. 
I willingly grant you a free and uncompromising divorce- 
ment of every obligation, and I shall feel particularly happy 
in my freedom from a man who I have found is unworthy 
of my affection and the confidence I had reposed in him. 

"Give yourself no uneasiness that I ever knowingly shall 
run counter to your pathway in life. I am not responsible 
for opening a breach between us, neither will I ever, by 
deed, word or act, be the first to favor reconciliation. 

Maudelle Morroe." 

In due process of mail Maudelle's letter reached Lawrence. 
He seized it, tore it open with the eagerness of one grabbing 
for a support against a violent death. He read, reread it, 
and paced the floor with hands behind him. Then he 
dropped into a chair with head hanging down and face 
held between the palms of his hands, and his body slowly 
swaying back and forth in the chair. There was evidently 
a great struggle raging in the heart of the man. 

Perhaps it was a struggle between love, duty and stub- 
born, independent self-w T ill. 

He loved Maudelle as dearly as man ever loved woman, 
and as he w T as responsible for breaking faith with her, 
was it not his duty to seek forgiveness? But what if she 
repulsed him, and held firm against all proffered reconcil- 
iation ? In that case he would show humiliating weakness 
which would haunt him through life. Here rose up with- 
in his lower nature a demon of self-will which clamored 



264 



MAUDELLE. 



for war without quarters of capitulation on any terms. 
That spirit held, that man must at all times assert his in- 
dependent supremacy over woman, because the world and 
all in it, are his by divine gift. 

But away down deep in his finer and inner spiritual self, 
there arose up that Godlike masterpiece of potent energy, 
charged and drove out those demoniac, multiform sou! 
destroyers. 

Then away back in the extreme distance, on the center 
point of the soul's horizon, there rose up the symmetrical 
outlines of the ideal woman, who seemed to come so grace- 
fully forward to take her place again in the heart that was 
all her own in right of holy conquest. 

Thus the meditation having ended, Lawrence sprang to 
his feet, kissed the letter of Maudelle with the remark, 
"I can not, I will not, lose her, I will go through the world 
hand in hand with her, or I will not go at all." He seized 
the pen and wrote the following:— 

"New Orleans, Oct. 18, 1869. 

My Dear Maudelle: — 

"I am favored with your letter in answer to that much 
regretted letter of mine. 

"Your letter is as sharp as a two-edged sword, but I 
deserve all it conveys and a thousand times more, and I 
bow to kiss the hand that has stabbed me. Dearest Maud- 
elle, I freely acknowledge that I have most cruelly and 
wickedly wronged you for w r ant of just a little common sense. 
Now what can I do to prove to you that I am heartily sorry 
for my conduct? May I come to you and atone at your 
feet on any terms you may dictate ? My own dear Maud- 
elle — although I may do violence to your sensitive nature 
by calling you my own; but somehow hope warrants my 
taking the risk, and my love for you forbids any other name 
— upon my knees I humbly sue for pardon; O let me come 



265 



MAUDELLE. 



back to your loving heart. I cannot expect to com on 
equality of love with you, because I do not deserve such a 
blessing, but I will be fully satisfied to come as a suppliant 
relying upon your generous heart for my former place in 
your confidence as a probationer. 

"My noble girl, my only loved one, my little heroine, 
I never will forgive myself for wounding the heart whose 
only sin was the sin of loving me, an ungrateful wretch. 

"When I received your letter in which you inclosed slips 
cut from the Daily Journal, as well as the contract between 
Mr. Crondell and the three villains who conspired with 
him against you ; I saw my undoing. But I had written and 
mailed my foolish and unreasonable letter, which could not 
be overtaken, and I had no alternative but to await a reply. 
The reply has come, cut me down, and I willingly bend to 
my deserved punishment. Now that I acknowledge my 
fault and ask for mercy, will you forgive me and write but 
one favorable word? and I will at once hasten to you, 
and offer up my life to resent the insult of Mr. Crondell. 
I am, tenfold more than ever, 

Your devoted Lawrence.'' 

When Maudelle received the letter, she read it, thought a 
minute, put it in her desk. "I shall be in no hurry to an- 
swer it," said she to Mrs. Gillispie. 

"I see you can fight back when pressed," said the old 
lady laughingly. 

In the meantime Lawrence waited in painful suspense 
for an answer to his letter. A week passed, two weeks 
passed, without bringing a reply. He could not work. 
He would go to his office, tumble his books about, walk 
out on the street until mail time. The carrier would either 
pass the office or bring a circular, a paper, or business 
letter, none of which were welcome. The third week came 
and was more than half gone. Lawrence was sick with 



266 



MAUDELLE, 



grief. He laid his bosom open to his friend, Dr. Mayo, 
and asked for advice as dependently as a child appealing 
to its mother. He threw himself wholly upon Mayo for 
a way out, for he had neither plans nor a mind capable 
of suggesting a plan. He had neither slept nor scarcely 
eaten enough to sustain a baby; thus he was treading on 
the boundary line of insanity. Dr. Mayo saw the danger 
ahead and resolved to save his friend at all cost. 

"Lawrence," said Mayo, "give yourself no further con- 
cern, you shall hear from her in a few hours." Lawrence 
shook his head, but said nothing. 

Br, Mayo left the office with instructions that Lawrence 
remain there until his return. Mayo went to the telegraph 
office, wrote and forwarded the following words :— 

"Miss Maudelle Morroe, if you wish to save my friend, 
Lawrence Deleno, from the horrors of insanity, or a violent 
death, I entreat you to say one encouraging word to him 
at once; as any further delay on your part will put him be- 
vend your help. 

George Mayo, M, D. 
New Orleans, La,, Nov. '69." 

In one hour and twenty minutes these words flashed over 
the wires:— 

"Bring him to me at once. 

Maudelle Morkoe, 

Boston, Mass., Nov., '69." 

Mayo bounded into the room and gave Lawrence the 
telegram. He read it, looked at Mayo, reread it, threw 
his arms about the neck of Mayo and sighed deeply, "I 
fear it is only a dream," said he. 

"It is not likely we are both dreaming the same thing," 
said Mayo, as he punched Lawrence in the ribs and 



267 



MAUDELLE. 

continued, f *Now, old boy, you are on the track again, and 
I wili^break your back ifjyou do any more foolish side track- 

At eight o'clock that night Lawrence and Mayo whirled 
away northward to answer Maudelle's telegram in person 



268 



CHAPTER XXV. 



TWO CAPTIVES AND A DEATH, 

Owing to the love and respect which Maudelle bore to 
the parents of Crondell, she suppressed the name and many 
other facts likely to expose him to the condemnation of the 
threatening public. 

But instead of showing an appreciation for her protection, 
it was evident from his frequent visits to the " Crow's Roost," 
that he was formulating another dark plot against her. 
He had now added his friend Vandercook, to his list of ac- 
cessories. 

Vandercook was a second-rate dude, without money, 
principle, or brains — a kind of human parasite that lived 
on CrondelPs generosity. 

At a late hour of the night, Crondell and Vandercook, 
heavily surcharged with intoxicants, wound their way to 
the "Crow's Roost." 

Crondell and Vandercook were talking decidedly too 
loud for the comfort of Duncan and his comrades, and they 
were warned several times to be more quiet. The result 
was, that the footsteps of two men were not heard, until 
the last stair steps were gained, and a rap at the door struck 
the inmates with a panic. 

Bill Duncan's men flew to arms and waited orders from 
their chief. Crondell and Vandercook looked hard at 
Bill for some token of advice. Bang, bang, bang! again 
went a fist on the rickety door. 

"Who in h— is there?" 

"Lawrence Deleno, and Dr. George Mayo from New 
Orleans," said a voice. 



269 



MAUDELLE. 



"What do you want here?" said Bill. 
"Is this the place known as the 'Crow's Roost 5 ?" asked 
Lawrence. 

"That is the name of this place, if you have no mischief 
in your heart; but if you have, it is hell," growled Bill. 

" No mischief, unless nothing else will do," said Lawrence. 

On hearing the name of the person at the door, Crondell 
curled his lip and tossed his head to one side " Pshaw!" 
said he, "that is Maudelle's nigger lover. He is a small 
fry, let him in." 

The door was lifted aside and the two men stepped in- 
side. 

George Mayo was in color pure black, but in features 
and suit of hair and beard, he was a fine specimen of a man. 

Lawrence was a type of his father, Judge Deleno, His 
mother was a colored woman of remarkable beauty, which 
nature had transferred to Lawrence, as well as the tall, 
commanding appearance of his father. 

Judge Deleno had treated Lawrence with the same kind- 
ness he had his legitimate children, all of whom were dead, 
Lawrence hadlbeen educated in Paris; besides the judge 
had given him*a life's training in law. 

"Is Mr. Thomas Crondell here?" asked Lawrence. 

"Yes, this is Mr. Crondell," said Crondell, as he tapped 
on his breast and stepped in front of Lawrence. "What 
do you want with me, eh?" said Crondell, in a threatening 
tone of voice. 

"I want a word or two with you, sir," said Lawrence. 

"I am at your service, say on," said Crondell. 

"I am told, sir," said Lawrence, "that you and three 
other conspirators kidnapped a lady friend of mine, and 
dragged her to a house of disreputable character. It is 
not necessary to remind you for what purpose you took 
her there, because the reputation of the house explains your 
brutal intention." 



270 



MAUDELLE. 



"Ah, ha!" said Crondell, "and that is what you are here 
for, is it ? You have come to punish some one for an in- 
jury done your friend. Your friend indeed! Ha, ha, ha! 
By Jupiter! I am not sure, sir, that you have any friends 
in this city, or even deserve any." 

"The fact is, young man, you will find in me a man — 
a formidable foe to deal with at any game you may pro- 
pose. 

"I do not doubt that you have friends of the kind I find 
you associating with. If I am to judge of your moral char- 
acter by your company, I am not much surprised at your 
morbidly animal nature, which has led you to attempt a 
crime, the well-deserved and legal penalty of which is death." 

"Be careful, sir, in your judgment of my character; 
I am not the man for you to trifle with." said Crondell 
shaking his finger in Lawrence's face. 

"I have not come to trifle with you," said Lawrence, 
"I have come to protect the honor of the woman to whom 
I am personally obligated by the most sacred ties known to 
man and woman." 

"Speak out," said Crondell, "what do you mean, when 
you say you are hereto protect one? What are you hinting 
at ? Speak out by g= — d — ." 

"I am here to demand full satisfaction from you, sir, 
for the gross insult to Miss Maudelle Morroe, and if you 
are all you claim— a gentlemean of intelligence and of 
manly courage— you will evidence that in your answer/' 
said Lawrence. 

"T suppose it is a duel you want ?" said Crondell contempt- 
uously. 

"Yes, a duel, or something worse, if you have the courage 
to stand up, and the skill to handle weapons, I demand 
satisfaction by a test of both." 

"We people of Boston are a cultured and a highly civ- 
iiized people. who adjust our own differences by the 



271 



MAUDELLE. 



arbitrament of reason and common sense. You are one of 
those low-bred Southerners who rule by brute passion. 
You fellows are red-handed murderers under the title of 
duelists. You are gamblers, cutthroats, cock, bull and dog 
fighters. 

" Although it is lowering to my fine sense of honor to notice 
your contemptible challenge, but by Jupiter! you shall not 
come so far without being accommodated. I will fight 
you till h— freezes over and then I will fight you on the ice." 
Turning to his friends, said — "Boys, you must all come 
and see me kill a black dog," said Crondell, excitedly. 

"The guilty wretch w T ho would blast the life and char- 
acter of an innocent girl, is half dead already by the con- 
scious sting of his own black crime, and only waits the fin- 
ishing stroke, to be eternally damned for it," said Lawrence 
sharply. 

"You may dictate time, place and choice of weapons 
now, or it may be left to my friend to confer with anyone 
you may name," said Lawrence. 

"Vandercook, please confer with the darky, and choose 
the weapon, time and place, where I am to kill this fellow," 
said Crondell pointing to Lawrence with his lips curled. 

Vandercook and Dr. Mayo stepped outside a few min- 
utes, and then returned and reported the arrangements 

The fight was to be in the cellar of the old glue factory 
on the next night at nine o'clock, weapons to be pistols 
of large calibre. 

''Now, sir," said Crondell, "no doubt your base charges 
against me are predicated on lies, to which you are fool 
enough to give credence, and unless you can give some proof 
of your vicious threat against my life ; I w r ill hand you over 
to our courts, in case I do not kill you." 

"I am responsible, sir, for all I say," said Lawrence. 
"I have made no charge against you which I cannot sub- 
stantiate by a document in your own handwriting *to which 



272 



MAUDELLE. 



your name is affixed as the principal party in the vile plot 
against Miss Morroe." 

"I don't believe a word of it, sir. I^dare you to produce 
the scratch of a pen against^me," said Crondell defiantly. 
Lawrence drew from^his pockety the original contract 
"Did you ever see that before ?" said he, as he unfolded it, 
and held it up to the light. 

Crondell, Vandercook, Bill Duncan and the other two 
roughs crowded up to look at the paper. 

Bill grabbed the paper from Lawrence, tore it into three 
parts, gave Demsy and McGinnis each a piece, and crammed 
the third piece into his mouth as an example for the others 
to follow. They chewed the paper into a pulp and swal- 
lowed it, notwithstanding Dr. Mayo's earnest entreaties 
to them not to swallow the poisonous paper. 

They yelled, "Bah! shoo! fly! " and "bear, take him out!" 
and so on. 

Crondell went wild with laughter. He mistook Dr. 
Mayo's warning for the interest he supposed he had in pre- 
serving the paper. 

Crondell pointing his finger at Lawrence — "Now, what 
proof have you, unless you choose to follow it down the 
stomachs of those men? Why, bud, this is the 1 Crow's 
Roost ' Don't you know that a crow will eat anything ? 
Look out, by Jupiter! you will go next. Ha, ha, ha! He 
had it, then he didn't have it. It has gone where the wood- 
bine twineth. Ha, ha, ha! Poor fool! Ha, ha, ha!" 

"I want to say," said Lawrence, "to you three men who 
were Mr. Crondell's hired agents, I attach no particular 
blame to you for the part you have taken against my friend. 
You are poor and in want, and it may reasonably be ex- 
pected that you could be easily influenced for money. 

"Now in the spirit of friendship, and the interest I feel 
in the protection of a human life, let me warn you of your 
inevitable fate. The contract which you three have eaten, 



273 



MAUDELLE. 



is a bit of gray paper through which prussic acid has been 
filtered by a druggist, and prussic acid is a virulent, quick- 
acting poison. I advise you to seek medical aid at once, 
or prepare to meet your God without a moment's delay." 
Turning to Crondell, he said, " Tomorrow night, as arranged 
at nine o'clock in the cellar of this building, I will meet you. 

"Good night ; gentlemen," said he, at the same time 
turning to go. 

Bill Duncan gave a wink, and in an instant McGinnis and 
Demsy sprang upon Lawrence from behind. Crondell 
and Vandercook came to their assistance. Lawrence 
being a powerful man physically, and having been trained 
in athletic science, was a hard man to capture, and in fact 
only allowed himself to be tied, when Bill swore he would 
shoot Dr. Mayo, whom he held at bay at the point of the 
pisto 1 , if Lawrence did not give up. 

Lawrence and Mayo were laid on the floor, on their 
backs, with their feet and hands extended right and left, 
then bound with ropes which were fastened by nails driven 
through the knots into the floor. 

"Now, by hooky!" said Bill, "there is no danger of you 
fellows giving us away to the public. You will stay here 
until tomorrow night, as safe and sound as dead men." 

"We had no intention of informing on you," said 
Lawrence. 

"Ah!" said Bill, "a sure bind is a sure find." 

"Now that Mr. Crondell has agreed to meet me on the 
field of honor, I intend to seek no other redress," said 
Lawrence. 

"The ropes to your feet and hands tell us that without 
your lips," said Crondell. Now having Lawrence at his 
mercy, Crondell became mean and abusive. He taunted 
Lawrence with names too unfit to be inserted here, and 
worked himself up to such a fevered frenzy, that he began 
to inflict violent treatment on the person of his prostrated 



*74 



MAUDELLE. 



victim; first, by blowing great volumes of cigar smoke into 
his face, then with hard raps, and kicks and stamps upon 
him. 

It was fun for McGinnis and Demsy, as it was for Bill, 
at first, unti the sport and punishment had reached a de- 
gree of unbearable, inhuman persecution. 

When Crondell but his foot on the neck of his victim, 
and bore his whole weight upon the bare flesh, Bill winced 
and became restless. 

There was a spark of real, genuine humanity coming up 
through Bill's rough nature, which forced him to speak out 
in protestation against any further abuse. 

"Mr. Crondell," said Bill, "I, for one, object to that 
kind of doggish treatment to anyone who can't help then> 
selves. I am as hard as any man. These hands of mine 
have sent three men to their graves, but it was when they 
had the use of themselves and an equal chance at my life, 
and I was saved only by being the quickest shot. I secured 
these men so as to prevent them from betraying us, and 
not for you to punish like d — dogs." 

Demsy and McGinnis became silent and serious, as soon 
as Bill began to speak, with nods of their heads as tokens 
of assent to what Bill said. 

"Halloo!" exclaimed Crondell, "the devil has turned 
saint, and his imps are struck with the namby, pamby, 
goody, goody influence of the arch fiend." 

Having no one on his side but Vandercook, Crondell 
abused the others as traitors. "This darky," said he, 
"is my deadly enemy, and it is my right to deal with him 
as I see fit, just as a conquering king would with a captive." 

"But, Mr. Crondell," said Bill, "you have neither con- 
quered nor captured this man; he is my prisoner, and I 
propose to treat him as such until I turn him over to you." 

"That means, I suppose, that I have no say in the mat- 
ter?" said Crondell, 



*75 



MAUDELLE. 



"That is just what if means," said Bill, in a stern tone of 
voice. 

"By Jupiter!" yelled Crondell, raising his voice to a high, 
shrill pitch,fand beating the air with his nervous fists, 
"no d — traitor shall prevent me from satisfying my ven- 
geance on this darky." He ran to Lawrence, raised his 
heel, and aimed it at the face of his victim. 

Bill was on his feet as quick as the flash of the eye, and 
with pistol in Crondell 's face — "Stamp, by heavens! and 
you are a dead man," said he. 

"He is my prisoner," continued Bill, "and bad as I am, 
I have not got the heart to tie a man for you to kill. He 
shall meet you tomorrow T night, as agreed, and when he 
has the use of his hands, it will be your time to get revenge," 
* " You are right, Bill," said Jack Demsy and John 
McGinnis, "and by hooky! w T e are with you to the last 
ditch." m 

Crondell saw that Bill w r as all earnestness, but, in order 
not to show his weakness or that he was afraid of Bill, he 
laughed a forced laugh. 

"I was only joking, boys," said he. "Of course I have 
no earthly use for the darky, but I did not intend to go 
further to-night, because, by the gods! I will slay him to- 
morrow night." 

"That is all right," said Bill. " Only let us be men once 
in awhile." 

It was not long before Crondell and Vandefcook went 
home, after making an engagement to meet Bill in the 
morning, in the cellar under the "Crow's Roost," where 
the duel w r as to be fought, 

" Now T , gentlemen," said Bill, addressing Lawrence and 
George, "I want to w r arn you in time. If you attempt to 
escape, w T e will be compelled to kill you to save ourselves. 
This place is unknown to the police, and must be kept so 
at all cost 



576 



MAUDELLE. 



"It is a great mystery to me, how you fellows found us, 
and if you do not object, I should like to know." 

"Why, it was an easy matter," said Lawrence. "When 
Miss Maudelle wrote me, she gave a minute description of 
Mr. Crondell. It was only a minute's w T ork to find the 
address and location of the Crondell family in a city di- 
rectory. Then we shadowed Mr. Crondell and followed 
him to this place." 

"I am a pretty slick duck, but I swear I never w r ould 
have thought of such a plan to catch a fellow," said Bill. 

"By hooky!" said Demsy, "as soon as a fellow leaves 
the cradle he gets into trouble; and it is a mystery to me how 
the poor devils live long enough after he leaves the cradle 
to reach the grave. Yez got to fooling w T id that fellow, 
Crondell, and he's let the fence down, and every scalawag 
of a police will be in on us next." 

"You spake too true, I fear," said McGinnis. 

"Well, we must imprison all that come," said Bill. 

"You will have to enlarge your pen, if many more come," 
said Dr. Mayo. 

"We will begin to kill and salt down to make room," 
said Bill. 

"Begin at the last comer," said Mayo. 

"The killing would be an excellent job for Mr. Crondell," 
said Lawrence. 

"Crondell — the d — fool, don't wait for them to get fat," 
said Bill. 

"After all," said Lawrence, "Bill, there is a great deal 
of real, genuine manhood down in your nature, which I 
was surprised to see demonstrated in my behalf, and do 
what you may I shall always have a kind feeling for you and 
for your protection. I believe he w r ould have killed me." 

"I thought so too," said Bill. "I used to be a kind of 
decent fellow one time, but—" he ended with a sigh, as he 
seemed to see a horrible picture pass before him, 



277 



MAUDELLE. 



"Boys, I feel plagued bad," said John McGinnis, who 
sat flat on the floor nursing his stomach. 

"I am not faling the bist meself," said Jack Demsv. 
"Nor me," said Bill. 

"I did my best to warn you fellows against swallowing 
that poisonous paper," said Dr. Mayo. 

"Was that paper sure enough poisoned?" said Bill. 
"Deadly poison," said Dr. Mayo. 

"Why, the whole thing was not more than six inches 
square," said Bill. 

"But it contained sufficient poison to kill; and I advise 
you to call medical skill at once," said Mayo. 

Bill shook his head. John was growing rapidly worse, 
while Bill and Jack were restless and frowning under gnaw- 
iug pains. 

"Gentlemen," said Mayo, "you must act quick, or it 
will be too late to save that man." 

"Gentlemen," said Bill, "I can see no difference between 
our dying here and languishing in prison for a long time, 
and then, perhaps, be hung. We can't call in a doctor or 
go to a drug store. Fact is, gentlemen, we can't afford to 
be seen in public." 

By this time John was cramping and begging piteously 
tor help. 

Jack was doubled up moaning, and Bill was walking the 
floor, rubbing his stomach. 

"Let me advise you once more for the sake of your lives," 
said Lawrence. "My friend Mayo, is a skilful doctor. 
Free him and he will procure the remedy, and do what he 
can to save you. You can keep me as your prisoner, and 
if he betrays you, take my life for it." 

"For God's sake! somebody help me," roared John, in 
wild, delirious spasms. "I can't, I can't stand this !" said he. 

"I know you can't," said Bill, in a voice full of fatherly 
sympathy. 



278 



MAUDELLE. 



"O, Bill, Bill! I know you have a true man's heart; 
don't see me die this way." 

"No, no! John," said Bill, "I cannot see you die without 
making an effort to save you. If this man can help you, it 
shall be done." 

Then Bill, with knife in hand, cut the cords from the 
hands and feet of Dr. Mavo. "Do your best for him and 
us," said Bill. 

Dr. Mayo sprang to his feet, held the candle close to the 
pale face and the upturned eyes of John. 

"Poor fellow! it is too late — he will be gone in ten min= 
utes." He inquired the way to the nearest drug store, and 
then ran down the rickety steps and disappeared in the dark= 
ness. 

John relapsed into convulsions and died in great agony, 
just as Mayo was heard running up the steps. Bill straight^ 
ened the body and threw an old coat over the face. 

"Which one of us next?" said Bill. 

"God only knows," said Jack. 

The doctor rushed in at the door, looked across the 
room where John lay; he knew the meaning of the still= 
ness of the man. He turned his attention to Jack, who 
-eemed to be in the greatest pain. Next he came to Bill. 
"Wait a minute," said Bill who at the same time crawled 
across the room to Lawrence, cut the ropes from his hands 
and feet. "Go free," said he, "I am not afraid of being 
betrayed by men who have such kind hearts." 

"You need have no apprehension. We intend to re- 
main with you until tomorrow night," said Lawrence. 

It was not long before the poison responded to the an- 
tidotes, and the restoration of the men to health was as- 
sured. 

WTien the sun rose next morning and stole through the 
openings in the plank walls of the "Crow's Roost" and 
fell across the cold, stiff form of John McGinnis, "I hope," 



279 



MAUDELLE. 



said Lawrence, "that the sunbeams on that corpse are 
indicative of the rising of the sun of righteousness in his 
soul before death came." He lifted the covering from the 
face of the dead — "O, my gracious!" said he, as he drew 
back. 

The nose, the eyelids and lips had been eaten away by 
rats, by which the place was alarmingly infested. 

"Poor fellow," said Dr. Mayo, "he surely did not deserve 
such a violent death." 

"Gintlemen," said Jack Demsy, "ye are kinder-hearted 
thin I expected. Faith! do yez know I am kind of sorry 
for my mane tratement to yez ? 

"I hope yez will not hold it in yez heart agin an unlearned 
divil." 

Bill merely gave his hand to Dr. Mayo and Lawrence 
as a token of thanks for saving his life. "I may live to 
serve you in some way," said he, as his eyes sparkled with 
tears. It was all he said; but far from what he felt. 

One could see a firm, earnest resolution to do better 
speaking out through his eyes, to which no words could 
give expression. To his surprise, he had found two men 
in the world who had kind words for him, and as strange 
as it may seem, Bill felt that it might be possible for him to 
get on good terms with the world again. It was his com- 
mon humanity responding to words of kindness. It was 
the innate consciousness breaking up through the incrusta- 
tions of his hard, rough nature. It was the immortal 
reclaiming the mortal. It was hope and faith in somebody 
— in something — returning on the white wings of love for 
God and man. 

It was with Bill Duncan as it has been, and will always be, 
with millions of depraved beings. There come times, 
when circumstances throw one near the track where the 
Holy Spirit sweeps past and its influence touches and 
awakens the t half -dead souls, which whirl into the holy 

280 



r 



MAUDELLE, 



vortex and follow— some— all the way, while others come 
back never to start again, 

Dr, Mayo and Lawrence stood looking through the open- 
ing in the planks, upon the squirming mass of depraved 
humanitv, isolated from the well-to-do bv an impassable 
gulf. 

" After all, doctor," said Lawrence, "one can hardly blame 
those starving wretches in the street for cursing the world 
for their misery and wreaking vengeance on the oppressor." 

"I know some naturally gravitate downward, no matter 
how circumstances may favor them." 

''There seems to be a downward tendency, at best, in 
human affairs, and once a fellow gets tripped, he seldom 
brings up shorter than the bottom; and the w r hole world 
will tramp on him before he can gain his feet," said Mayo. 

"Yes," said Lawrence, "while these poor people are pil- 
fering scraps and crumbs to prolong their worthless lives, 
tens of thousands of their fellow-men wear wealth enough 
on one finger to make a whole neighborhood happy and 
useful citizens/' 

As Lawrence and his friend conversed principally in 
French, Bill and Jack kept eyeing them, as though they 
thought the men were planning to do some desperate thing. 

"Are you men fixing to leave us, or kill us, or what?" 
said Bill. 

"O, no!" said Lawrence. "We are sympathizing with 
the poor people down yonder in the streets." 

"I guess you are the onlv ones in this town, who think 
that way," said Bill. 

A rapping with a cane at the foot of the steps was a sign 
for Bill to come down. In an hour Bill returned. "It 
was Crondell and his friend, who had come to perfect 
the arrangements for the duel," said he. 

After returning from the old cellar, he sat a long time 
in deep meditation, as though something was weighi&g 



281 



MAUDELLE. 



kcavily on his mind. Finally looking up, he said, " Gentle- 
men 3 I am going to try to save a life. If I am arrested, 
will you gentlemen come to the prison, so I may tell you 

whose life I am trying to save?" 

They promised Bill they not only would come to see him, 
but would use their means and efforts to rescue him. 

"All right," said Bill, "I am going to try it." 

He trimmed his hair and beard, greased his shoes, ar= 
ranged his rags on his person, and went out without saying 
another word. 

In two hours he returned looking really pleased. 

"How did your scheme to save a life succeed?" inquired 
Lawrence of Bill. Bill put his finger to his lips, "Wait," 
said he. 

"Jack," said Bill, "at nine o'clock sharp, conduct these 
gentlemen to the cellar. Be on time, gentlemen. The 
duel can be declared off, if you are one minute too late. 
You have an hour yet. I will meet you in the cellar to-night. 
Good bye." 

This said, Bill descended the steps and disappeared 
among the huts. 



282 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



A DUEL AND A FUNERAL, 

No doubt Lawrence felt a little nervous, as the last sixty 
nynutes of the allotted time kept dropping off, one by one, 
and bringing him to the field of bloody encounter with his 
rival. 

He was confident of his own skill, with either the sword 
or pistol, but he knew nothing of that of his antagonist. 
Then again, he had not seen Maudelle — the woman for 
whose honor he was to offer his life. In fact, he had not 
even sent word to Maudelle that he was in the city, and for 
what purpose. 

When the two had met and parted last, they were chil- 
dren without any fixed notion for the future; now they were 
matured in age and thought, and had obligated themselves 
by constant correspondence. 

He would have liked to have met her, and have said 
merely good-bye! "Yes," said he to himself, "I should 
have liked to have said good-bye! for who knows but — 
O, well! I will not think of that." It was now tw T enty min- 
utes to nine o'clock. 

"Be careful, be careful," said Bill, as he backed down 
the crazy steps to the cellar under the glue factory, holding 
to the nervous hands of two ladies. 

"What under the sun are those things making such a 
noise?" said one of the ladies. 

"Rats," said Bill, as he struck a match and lighted his 
tallow candle. Hundreds of rats scampered off, while 
many old, hen-pecked fellows, g own gray and lazy in the 



283 



MAUDELLE 



service of foraging, merely dragged a little to one side, 
and sat on their hind legs grinning, as a warning to keep off. 

"This way," said Bill, as the ladies followed him, stum- 
bling over piles of dirt, fallen mortar and brick. The rats 
gave way to the dull light and ran across the path of the 
parties and clambered up the broken walls, or slipped into 
holes in the ground, and were out again as soon as the light 
passed them. 

Half-way down this gloomy cellar—this sepulchre, this 
catacomb of rats, filth and dirt of every kind, was one par- 
ticular pile of rubbish and old barrels and boxes. Behind 
this barracoon, Bill conducted the ladies, and seated them 
on boxes, himself taking the center one. "This is about the 
best I can do for you, ladies," said Bill. 

"We will not complain," said they, "since this adventure 
will add something romantic to our history." 

"Now, ladies," said Bill, "by all means keep your heads 
about you. Don't let the scene throw your minds out of 
kilter* Have a little confidence in me and keep cool. We 
can see everything that goes on here through the openings 
in the boxes." 

He blew out his candle. "We have not long to wait," 
said he, "Don't forget, Miss Maudelle, to act the minute 
I give you the signal. Hush, be still," said Bill, "they are 
coming." 

Nothing but the squeaking of rats, as they lashed their 
tails against the ground and dragged themselves over piles 
of bricks and fallen beams, showed any signs of life in the 
cellar. The cellar was now all darkness. The hearts of 
the excited women beat quicker than before, as the foot- 
steps of several men were heard approaching. A light 
flashed in at the entrance to the cellar, then down came six 
men without speaking a word to one another. 

Each one, no doubt, was absorbed in his own thoughts. 
Tallow candles were lighted and stuck about on the ground. 

284 



MAUDELLE, 



Thirty feet were stepped off and marked by Vandercook, 
''Take off your coats," said he. Crondell and Lawrence 
removed their coats. 

As Lawrence turned to give his coat to Dr. Mayo, he was 
brought face to face with Maudelle, who was looking through 
the cracks in the boxes. She started to her feet with a gasp. 
Bill quickly placed his hand on her arm. "Control your- 
self, Miss," he whispered. 

"I will," she whispered back. 

"Take your positions, gentlemen, directly on the mark 
I have made at each end of the thirty feet I have meas- 
ured," said Vandercook. 

Lawrence and Crondell went to their places and stood 
facing each otker. "To-night you die," said Crondell to 
Lawrence. 

"Then it will be the crowning glory of my life to die for 
a noble, virtuous woman," said Lawrence. 

The two devoted lovers were now separated by the 
space of only a few feet — he unconscious of her presence- 
There stood the only man Maudelle had ever truly loved, 
the choice of her childhood, and now the inseparable tie 
of her mature years. He stood there, firmly fixed on the 
mark, awaiting orders to offer his life as a sacrifice for the 
affection he bore her. "O, God! this is awful," whispered 
she. 

"Keep cool," said Bill. 

Vandercook took from a little hand satchel, two danger- 
ous looking pistols of five chambers each. 

"This way," said Vandercook to Dr. Mayo. "Examine 
these weapons and see whether or not they are properly 
loaded." Mayo examined them and said they seemed to 
be properly charged. 

"Gentlemen," said Vandercook, "it is the rule that the 
challenged party has the first choice of weapons." 

"No objection to that, sir." 



285 



MAUDELLE, 



Crondell fumbled a long time over the pistols and finally 
chose one. The other was given to Lawrence. 

" Should either of you need surgical service after the duel, 
you have at your command, Dr. William Bankston, one of 
the most skilful surgeons in this country," said Vandercook, 
in rather a reflective tone of voice, meant especially for Dr. 
Mayo. 

"My friend, Dr. George Mayo, graduate of King's col- 
lege, England, will look after my interest, gentlemen," said 
Lawrence. The two medical men shook hands and ex- 
changed a word or two relative to the unfortunate oc- 
casion. 

"Are you ready, gentlemen?" said Vandercook. 

" Ready," responded the combatants. 

"I will count three, and you will fire on the word 1 three'. 
In case neither is touched by the first discharge, you will 
continue to fire until all the chambers in your weapon are 
empty." Miss Bowen shuddered. 

Maudelle felt her head swim, and the walls of the cellar 
seemed to rock and then revolve around her. She felt her- 
self bend forward toward the ground, in spite of all her 
efforts to sit upright. Miss Bowen grasped her hand. 

Bill whispered in her ear, "Keep your head, Miss." 

The word from Bill came just in time to wake the flag- 
ging sensibilities, or it is doubtful whether she could have 
performed her part. 

Miss Bowen had already bent over and covered her face 
with one hand. Bill had to let Miss Bowen go and give all 
his attention to Maudelle, upon whom depended the pres- 
ervation of a human life. 

"Now, gentlemen, you are equally armed, take your 
places," said Vandercook. The combatants stepped back 
on the line designated by him. 

"Are you ready," cried Vandercook. 

"Ready," was the response of both antagonists. 



386 



MAUDELLE. 



"I will count three," said he, "and you, gentlemen, fire 
on the word 'three'." 

"O God!" sighed Maudelle. 

"Keep ycmr head and be ready to act on the moment," 
said Bill, as he placed his hand under her arm, 

"Take aim at the breast and continue to fire until your 
weapons are empty or one of you falls." 

"Awful, awful!" sighed Maudelle. 

"Keep cool," said Bill. 

Vandercook cried aloud, "One — two — 

Bill quickly raised Maudelle, "Go," said he. 

She sprang from behind the boxes and ran between the 
combatants with arms extended as though to push them 
back. 

Miss Bowen followed close behind Maudelle. 

"For God's sake, gentlemen, let us have no more of 
this," cried Maudelle. "Mr. Crondell," continued she, 
"I am here unharmed, either in person or character, and 
I freely forgive you all. Mr. Deleno, you are here to offer 
your life for me — and what more can a reasonable woman 
ask?" 

The men stood firm in their tracks, with weapons aiming 
at each other's breast. 

"Lower your weapons," said Vandercook, "and let us 
hear from you two gentlemen." 

The weapons went down. "Are you two satisfied to 
end the contest?" said Vandercook. 

"I am quite willing to allow Miss Maudelle to adjust 
our differences by arbitration," said Lawrence. 

"I am not willing to such a trick put up by this woman," 
said Crondell. "That darky," continued he, "has chal- 
lenged me, insulted me, and I am going to have it out with 
him now. Now that he finds he has met more than a 
matchlin me, he has this woman put up a scheme to save 
himself. He has a weapon in every respect equal to mine; 



287 



MAUDELLE. 



dna ix ne is au he claims to be, let skill and courage answ ~r 
for him." 

"Your are right," cried Vandercook. "Step aside there, 
madam, and let this fight go on, or take the consequence of 
your folly. Take aim," cried he. The weapons went up. 
Bill stepped from behind the barricade. 

"Hold your fire," said he. 

"And you here too?" said Vandercook. 

"Yes, I am here," said Bill. 

"A d — n pretty nest of filthy birds!" said Crondell. 
"What do you want here?" said Vandercook. 
"To see fair play," said Bill. 

Turning to Crondell, he said, "You have said that Mr. 
Deleno's pistol is equal to yours." 

"I say so now; it is, and if you say it is not, you are an 
infernal, lying dog," said Crondell excitedly. 

"X say you are a cultured, Christian gentleman, but not 
as mindful of the truth as one of your standing should be," 
responded Bill, good-naturedly. 

Turning to the others, Bill continued, "Ladies and gentle 
men, I have this to say, and will prove what I say, or 
you may—or I will take my own life if I fail to do so. 
Mr. CrondelPs weapon is loaded with balls — balls to kill- 
while that of Mr. Deleno's is loaded with nothing but 
powder." 

"You are a d— n, lying black-hearted cur, and you shall 
take it back, or I will kill you," said Crondell, as he at- 
tempted to level his pistol on Bill. 

But quicker than thought, Bill jerked a pistol from his 
bootleg, and threw it into CrondelPs face. The women 
screamed and hid their faces. 

Crondell dropped his weapon. Bill stepped forward 
and picked it up, gave it to Drs. Bankston and Mayo, re- 
quested Lawrence to give his also to those gentlemen, 
whom he asked to examine both weapons < 



288 



MAUDELLE. 



The examination showed Crondell's pistol to be loaded 
with balls, and Deleno's with blanks, as Bill had said. 

"Now," said Bill, "you want to know how I knew this. 
In the first place I know Mr. Crondell to be a natural-born 
coward, and that he would not fight unless he had great 
advantages on his side. 

"This afternoon when he and Mr. Vandercook came in 
here to select their vantage ground, I slipped in behind them 
and heard the plot." 

"Traitor," growled Crondell. 

"I," Bill continued, "thought it was so dogged inhuman, 
I resolved to save Mr. Deleno's life. I ventured to the 
home of Miss Maudelle, and got her to promise to help me, 
though much to my surprise, after such meanness at our 
hands. 

"Some sleight-of-hand trick your doctor has worked," said 
Vandercook. 

"Yes," said Crondell, "give me my favorite weapon, 
the sword, and I will kill the darky and be done with him 
in a few minutes." 

"That is right," said Vandercook. "I know my 
friend Crondell to be an expert swordsman, and I would 
have suggested the sword at first, but I knew he would 
kill his nigger so quick, there would be no fun in the 
fight." 

"I have anticipated your come-off," said Bill, as he threw 
back his long, old, tattered overcoat and drew out two, 
keen, dangerous-looking swords, He bent them across 
his knee and they sprang back to place, He switched them 
through the air, handed them to the doctors, "See that 
they are equal weapons," said he, 

"We find no difference in them," said they. 

"Come, take your choice," said Bill to Crondell, 

CrondelTsprang forward and seized one = The other was 
given to Lawrence, 



289 



MAUDELLE. 



Maudelle and Miss Bowen plead for peace. Lawrence, 
aside, spoke a few words in French to Maudelle. She bowed 
politely and retired to her hiding-place, followed by Miss 
Bowen. 

"Give your orders," said Bill to Vandercook. 

"Measure blades," said he, and that was the last order 
he had time to give, because Crondell rushed on Lawrence 
in such fury that all seemed to hold their breath in expec- 
tation of a fearfully bloody scene. It was CrondelPs in- 
tention to strike terror into Lawrence and drive him from 
the ground. He mistook him for a common, Southern 
negro ex-slave, without sufficient courage to stand before 
the menaces of a white man. 

Lawrence received Crondell coolly, parried the blow, 
sent CrondelPs sword to the ground, and placed the edge 
of his own sword against CrondelPs bare neck. Crondell 
grabbed his sword, raised it high in air, sprang toward 
Lawrence with teeth gnashing and with a wild thrust of 
his blade. 

Without an apparent effort, Lawrence sent CrondelPs 
sword spinning to the opposite wall of the cellar, and placed 
the point of his sword directly over CrondelPs heart. 

"I be d — n," said Vandercook. Bill laughed. CrondelPs 
face underwent many colors and expressions. Vandercook 
brought his sword to him, and he fixed himself for another 
lunge. 

"Gentlemen," said Lawrence, "it must be apparent to 
all present that Mr. Crondell has no knowledge of sword 
defence, and I could have killed him either the first or second 
onset. But when I observed — as I expected — so great a 
disparity of skill between us, I felt that it would be murder 
to take advantage of his ignorance. 

My training has been thorough in the manuel of every 
kind of weapon known to the people of France, especially 
in Paris where I was educated in the handling of the pistol, 



290 



MAUDELLE. 



and carried to perfection. But if Mr. Crondell will insist 
that he is a match for me, I shall not spare him in his next 
attempt. Mr. Crondell, I have no desire to do you harm, 
but this drama must end in the death of one of us, if nothing 
better will do, and I warn you, sir, to guard yourself well 
against the worst. I am ready, come on, sir." 

Crondell threw down his sword. "I am no trained 
bandit, cutthroat, murderer and sneak- thief," said he, with 
his lips curled. 

Bill moaned. Crondell looked daggers at him. "By 
heavens! you traitorous skunk, I will see to it that you are 
hung in less than three months," snarled he. 

"And I will tell your history before I go," retorted Bill, 
as Crondell followed Vandercook and Dr. Bankston up 
the cellar steps. He turned, shook his fist at Lawrence, 
and said, "Mr. Nigger, you can crow and strut over your 
hellish game of to-night, but the end is not yet." 

"Good night, sir," said Lawrence, as Crondell disap- 
peared in the night. 

Now that the duel had ended without bloodshed, through 
the timely intervention of Bill Duncan, who modestly re- 
ceived the congratulations of Lawrence and all present, the 
little party was about to go, when Bill stepped up and said: 

"Ladies and gentlemen, me and Jack have a little duty 
to perform, if you do not object to remaining a few minutes." 

All agreed to wait. 

Bill and Jack ran up the cellar steps and were heard climb- 
ing the long string of tottering stairs to the " Crow's Roost." 
Those present had not the faintest idea of the character 
of the next scene. Dr. Mayo and Miss Bowen entered 
into a pleasant chat, while Lawrence and Maudelle stepped 
a little to one side and began conversing on more serious 
matters understood by none but lovers. 

"Maudelle, I am most happily disappointed in you," 
said Lawrence. 



291 



MAUDELLE. 



" Disappointed, in what way?" said she. 

" You have grown very handsome. When I last saw you, 
your hair was cut short, it was dark brown, so were your 
eyes. Now both your hair and eyes have changed from 
brown to black. You were then a square- waisted cub, 
but now you are tall and as well-proportioned as if chiseled 
from marble by a master-hand." 

Before she could answer him, the two men were heard 
coming down the steps, seemingly carrying some heavy 
object. 

"O Maudelle dear, I have a thousand things to tell you, 
whispered Lawrence. 

4 'And I have a thousand ears to hear," responded she 
in the same anxious tone of voice. 

Down into the cellar came Bill and Jack with their curious- 
looking load. The waiting little party strained their eyes 
to catch a glimpse of the thing, as the two men emerged 
from the darkness into the dim candle-light. 

The two women drew back in alarm at sight of a corpse. 
Dr. Mayo explained in a word the cause of the man's death, 
which allayed the fears of the women, and they became in- 
terested in the strange underground funeral. 

" Don't be alarmed, ladies," said Bill, "he is the most 
harmless one among us. Will some one bring the light this 
way?" said he. 

Willing hands followed the dead with the lights to the 
rear of the cellar and through a lopsided door into what 
was once an engine room. This was a gloomy-looking place, 
with its black, damp, sooty walls besmeared with red paint 
and patches of damp mould, in whose corners and from 
whose joints hung many years of accumulated cobwebs. 

Piles of ashes, broken brick and debris of every sort cov- 
ered the ground, or dirt floor. In one corner of this place, 
Bill had already dug a grave across which two pieces of 
scantling had been placed, and on which the cold, stiff body 



292 



MAUDELLE. 



of John McGinnis was laid. Bill took off his hat, an ex- 
ample which the others followed. Bill looked inquiringly 
into the faces of each one present. "Is there a professing 
Christian in this party?" said he. The question was so 
unexpected from that rough, uncouth character of the 
" Crow's Roost", that no one was prepared to answer. 
For a minute all were painfully silent. 
"I thought," said Bill, "that some one might desire to 
give us a word of warning. That used to be the way when 
I was a better man than I am now, and often attended 
church and funerals. Of course, that was some time ago. 
I expect the custom has changed now. 

"Come, Jack, let him down." A rope was put under 
the head and feet of the one plank on which the corpse 
lay. Then with feet braced on either side of the head and 
foot of the grave, gathering the slack of the rope, Bill and 
Jack prepared to lower the body. 

ki Just a minute," said Lawrence, as he waved his hand 
for them to stay proceedings. "I am confident there is one 
Christian here who has kept silent from a delicate sense of 
modesty. I refer to Miss Maudelle Morroe. If there 
are others, please speak." 

"I am not a Christian," said he. "Nor I, nor I," went 
the rounds of the company, and left Maudelle like a lone 
tree in the ragged path of a cyclone. Every eye was turned 
to her. There stood the timid, modest little woman with 
one lady friend, a dead man at her feet in this underground 
dungeon, and four men looking to her for advice. 

The color of her face came and went in quick succession. 
Her lips parted and then closed again ; then with an effort, 
she shook off her timidity, and said: 

"Dear friends, I was earnestly hoping that God had 
a representative among these four men, and that I should 
be spared this unusual task to which your reticence forces 
me, 



293 



MAUDELLE. 



"Please bear in mind this one thing through life, the 
excuse of not being a Christian, is not enough to exempt 
one from his duty to mankind, in fact it rather makes|duty 
all the more imperative. (Miss Bowen nodded assent.) 

" Imperative, because God's continual blessing, without 
some return at our hands, may involve one so deeply in 
debt, that one may step beyond the boundary of God's 
indulgence and be lost. 

"I know nothing of the life and character of the dead, 
and it is not necessary that I should — it would not be of any 
particular use in a mere word of advice to his comrades. 
The lesson death teaches is the same everywhere — the death 
of a prince teaches no more nor less than that of this man 
at our feet. 

"No matter how widely we may differ here in our 
rank and social status, death reduces us to a harmonious 
level. 

"No doubt the spiritual life and character of one in this 
world will be a basis for a beginning in the next. ' Prepare 
to meet thy God,' is the admonition of the ages. But I 
apprehend that a large majority of non-professing Chris- 
tians misinterpret the meaning of the admonition, and at- 
tach only a spiritual significance to what should embrace 
the spiritual and temporal nature of mankind. If you would 
have a good government, it cannot be had by cursing its 
rulers and disobeying its laws, for in exact proportion that 
we are loyal to law, order and decency, our government 
will be strong or weak. 

"This is true with our spiritual nature; it will grow weak 
or strong in grace, in exact ratio to our deeds. 

"Good deeds, remember, do not consist only in preach- 
ing and praying, as some seem to think; but in every- 
thing that tends to make mankind happy, good and 
virtuous, and thereby enhance the coming of the Kingdom 
of Christ 



294 



MAUDELLE. 



"To more clearly illustrate my meaning, you will please 
pardon a personal allusion, for I cannot let the opportun- 
ity be lost. 

"The preventing of bloodshed by Duncan, and his 
showing that much interest in humanity, makes, him just 
that much of a child of God, for which his reward is sure. 

u You have but to read the promise to the 'Peacemaker.' 
With this much of a start in the right direction, Duncan, 
you and your companion should press on to a higher life. 

"What I have seen of you, Duncan, assures me that 
you have within you manly principles, planted perhaps in 
childhood at the fireside of devoted and indulgent parents. 
Principles which only wait a gentle call to duty, which will 
lead you to some grand and great achievement that will 
make the world your debtor. 

"Lay your friend to rest, and let us hope that when he 
awakes, he will awake in the likeness of Christ." 

The body was lowered into the grave without coffin or 
box, except one plank beneath the body, and short bits laid 
crosswise. The hard, cold clods were rapidly shoveled in, 
and the place left flat, so as to show as little sign of a grave 
as possible. 

Jack gathered up the shovels and rope, Bill took the candle 
and started to leave the cellar, as did the party. He 
stopped short, gave the candle to Jack, turned around and 
walked to the far end of the room, thirty-five or more feet 
from John's grave. He stopped with his head bent over — 
" Good-bye, Eva, good-bye forever," he w r as heard to say, 
as his voice trembled with emotion. He drew his sleeve 
across his eyes, pulled his hat well down over his face, and 
came back to where the astonished party stood. 

"To whom w r ere you bidding good-bye, Bill?" said 
Lawrence. 

"To my wife and child," said Bill, as his voice faltered. 
"To your wife and child?" inquired Maudelle. 



295 



MAUDELLE. 



"Yes," said Bill, "and I suppose you want to know how 
that comes." Of course all were anxious to hear the mys- 
terious story. 

"To go back a little way in my history, I was raised an 
upright, country boy. I came to this city, married, and got 
on nicely, until I got into a dispute with my employer over 
a few dollars he owed me for extra work. He discharged 
me, and I could not get work again anywhere. 

"I used up all my means, and then sold off my furniture; 
was driven from place to place, because I could not pay rent. 
Finally I got into this neighborhood— the lowest in Boston. 
I continued to walk the streets from day to day looking 
for work. 

"My wife and child were both sick and helpless — slowly 
starving to death." He choked, was silent a minute, 
then continued: "One night I came home and found my 
little girl in convulsions." He turned his head and drew 
his sleeve across his eyes. "When the spasm would pass 
she seemed to know me. She would put her tongue out 
and work her lips, which were drawn back from over her 
teeth, I knew she was trying to ask for bread; and she died 
without knowing why I could not give it to her. 

"Friends, it cut me to the heart, and does yet. 

"Three days after my child's death, my poor wife, re- 
duced to mere bones, followed our child. 

"I brought them here, put the child in its mother s arms 
and buried them in the corner yonder. I then moved to 
the den up in the top of the building, so I could be near 
them. 

"I gave it the name of the *' Crow's Roost' for this reason. 
We boys caught some young crows one time. We split 
their tongues to make them talk — as people said they 
would — but they did not talk; so we cut their tongues out. 
The poor things died of course. The parent crows contin- 
ued to come for a long time and roosted in the trees where 



296 



MAUDELLE, 



the cage hung, I guess you all see the analogy between 
my condition and the crows. 

" After my wife and child starved to death, I cursed my- 
self for trying to be honest. I cursed the world and every- 
thing in it, and made up my mind to be honest no longer. 
I have become hard and revengeful; but it is all over now," 

Bill silently led the way to the outlet of the cellar. As 
he reached the steps— " Friends," said he, "I will hold the 
light that you may see your way out, then I will put it out, 
so as not to attract attention on the outside. 

"Let me say for myself and last surviving comrade, 
we truly thank you for your kindess, and especially Miss 
Maudelle, whose words of advice will be from now on the 
guide of our lives. Good-bye ! we shall never see you again. " 
The two men held out their hands, which were warmly 
grasped by the company. 

"You say we are not to see you again?" said Lawrence, 
as he held Bill by the hand. 

"I expect not," said BilL ' 'It is our intention to be many 
miles from this city before tomorrow morning." 

"This must not be," said Lawrence, "for I have already 
matured plans for the comfort of you two men." 

"My good friends," said Bill, "your good intentions are 
worth more to us than anything else. No amount of money 
could compare in comfort to the satisfaction of knowing 
that there are four persons in the world who are not enemies 
to us." 

Lawrence drew from his pocket a roll of bills. "Here," 
he said, "I must be allowed to do something." 

Bill waved him back. "Not a cent, sir. From this 
night we have resolved to fight the world single-handed for 
honest bread. 

"Good-bye! to all," said Bill, as he dropped the candle 
fromf his nervous hand and his face was lost in a sea of 
darkness. 

297 



MAUDELLE. 

As the party climbed out of the cellar and gained the 
open alley, a distant clock struck two. 

The next two or three days were busy days for Maudelle. 

On the afternoon of the third day, Ann and Maudeiie 
walked hurriedly down a broad avenue together. 

"Let us step in here," said Maudelle, at the same time 
taking a key from her pocket. She turned it in the lock, 
and the two walked into a neat and well-stocked millinery 
store. Maudelle took from her pocket receipts for goods 
and a deed to the property, valued at ten thousand dollars. 
She gave the papers to Ann. "This place is yours. Be 
a good girl." She kissed Ann's forehead and was gone 
before Ann could speak through the tears of thanksgiving 
which were pouring from her grateful eyes. 

The red-haired Ann who had saved Maudelle, was her- 
self saved, and established in a business she understood, 
which placed her beyond want, as Maudelle had promised. 



29$ 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



THE DREAM REALIZED. 

Twenty years or more had come and gone since 
Maudelle sat on her father's knee and listened to his last 
advice but a few hours before he passed out of time and 
entered eternity. 

One among the many things he advised was that when 
she had reached womanhood, she should devote a reason- 
able share of her means, time and talents to the elevation 
of the negro race, if they should become free in her time. 

The time to which he referred had come, and much sooner 
than the wisest heads dared to anticipate. The broad field 
for willing laborers, and the opportunities to work were at 
hand. Thousands of busy hands from the North were 
already employed among the negroes in the South at this 
date, 1872. 

Owing to Maudelle 's Southern nativity, she felt more 
at home than did those who w r ere merely adventurers. 
The characteristics of the Southern people, and much of 
the old regime were familiar to her. While to others who 
had got their information from news journals, which were 
more than apt to overrate or undervalue the true status 
of things, they were looked at from a rather narrow, prej- 
udiced center of view. 

That mad, impetuous dash to arms by the South, had 
swept away the old South, and created in its stead a new 
South, with new political and economic relations to be ad- 
justed to the conditions and needs of the two races. 

Whether negro freedom was a military expediency or 
necessity, or not— as some say it was— is indeed a useless 



299 



MAUDELLE. 



thought, as a help in finding a satisfactory outcome of this 
great, heterogeneous military production. It is not now 
why, or by whom, emancipation came, but it is here with 
all its responsibilities, which must be met and mastered 
regardless of cost of time or means. 

Free and uncontrolled ignorance is the most dangerous 
element that ever fell to the lot of a community, state or 
nation. The gross ignorance and superstition of the negro 
which had been slavery's potent factor as a reliable safe- 
guard against loss of life and property right in black men, 
had reversed itself, and assumed a menacing attitude very 
alarming in proportions. 

The pessimistic " copperhead" critics of the North cried 
out, "What will you do with the negro?" 

At first this question was taken in a sense of light joc- 
ularity, but it soon passed from that to a serious, national 
question, which has been discussed pro and con by the 
most eminent statesmen and the most humble thinkers 
in the nation; and yet, to this day, an acceptable solution 
is unreached. The negro's white friends, both North and 
South, held firmly to the optimistic idea of education and 
Christianization, as the most feasible panacea for our po- 
litical and social fears. 

But the pessimistic enemy answered back, that the negro 
was a beast, without soul or reason, and had not the capac- 
ity of mind to think, or grasp the abstract principles of 
learning. 

The white men and women who had given the best part 
of their lives to bringing about emancipation, were severely 
criticised for the sudden precipitation of negro freedom, 
rather than a mild, lengthy, gradual emancipation, which 
was thought would have been more acceptable to the South. 

But these suggestions, like many others in hindsight, 
came too late to be of service to those already burdened 
with the responsibility of bringing the negro to his proper 

2>9Q 



MAUDELLE. 



place in the American nation. The plain fact is, that human 
oppression is a principle of wrong, and the individual or 
nation that temporizes with wrong, makes himself debtor 
to the principles of right, whose accounts must be squared 
at some time. 

I have never believed it was fair to blame the South 
altogether for negro slavery. Of course, it was a curse, 
but no more so to the South, which profited by it, than to 
the North, whose protection sanctioned it. 

I have but one apology to make, and it is the only one I 
expect to make for emancipation. The curse of slavery 
had outgrown the patience of justice, and was wholly in- 
compatible with the progressive, high-class intelligence of 
the Anglo-Saxon, and either slavery or the country had to 
go. It is not necessary to discuss the results of the pleas- 
ing and profitable decision by the arbitrament of arms. Now 
that old things are done away, and all things have become 
radically changed, if not new, it is wise for all concerned 
to adapt themselves to circumstances, which cannot be 
changed. 

Maudelle Morroe had just come on the ground, with a 
head full of knowledge, a heart full of sympathy, a pocket 
rich with means and hands ready for active work. She saw 
the dream of her life assuming the sharp and tangible 
outlines of reality. She very soon saw that she had under- 
estimated the work in hand, and that the draft on her men- 
tal, physical and financial resources would be much greater 
than she had expected. Yet she had all of the needed re- 
sources back of her, and was thus made equal to the task. 

She saw that the negro's schooling, manner of life, every- 
day habits, concept of right and wrong, and notion of moral 
purity, had to be exactly reversed. She knew that anything 
like a radical enforcement of right principles, before the 
wrong were unlearned and driven out of the mind, would 
confuse him and end in failure. She had not forgotten the 



MAUDELLE. 



great truth of Francis Bacon, who said, "That truth came 
out of error much more rapidly than out of confusion, and 
that if you are absolutely and thoroughly and persistently 
wrong, you must, some of these days, have the extreme 
good fortune of knocking your head against a fact that 
will set you all straight" Since the negro's entire life had 
been that of error, Bacon's idea furnished a hope for the 
negro. Yet, when carefully casting up the work in hand, 
it was plain to be seen that the mental and moral achieve- 
ments of acknowledged worth would not be that of decades 
or generations, but of centuries. The word religion in 
its simple meaning is to turn and go in the opposite direc- 
tion. Thus the negro had to get religion in the use of text 
books — it was once a punishable crime for him to be caught 
with a book in his hand. 

Whereas but yesterday, he was amenable only to the 
verbal law of his master, whose jurisdiction was limited 
to the boundary line of the plantation. 

But now he is amenable to the established laws of the 
community, state and general government. 

But yesterday the negro had a master to think for him 
and provide for his bread, raiment, medicine, sickness, death, 
burial and even the destiny of his soul. 

But how changed to-day! The negro is out in the 
broad world with empty head and hands, to compete for 
bread with a sharp, well-trained, progressive and aggressive 
white race, who claim the entire world as their rightful, 
inherited kingdom. 

But yesterday the moral status of the negro was regulated 
by the dictates of his owner, who raised him but one short 
step above the animal he worked — as the marriage relations 
were merely in name, to be made and unmade as it suited 
t he convenience of the master. 

No wonder the negro finds it so hard to faithfully sub- 
scribe to all the sacredness of an institution, whose obliga- 

302 



MAUDELLE. 



tions he had never learned. To throw off the impressions 
of two hundred and forty years, and to attempt to take 
on the white man's civilization in so short a time, was an 
undertaking for pupil and teacher, which was sure to tax 
the patience of the one to its greatest tension, and prove, 
or disprove, the mental possibilities of the other. The 
thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth amendments made it 
necessary for the negro to comply with all the conditions 
created by the enactment of these laws. 

There is a principle in psychology known as Compound 
Quantitative Reasoning, which embraces two elements 
known as destroying and sustaining force. This exactly 
illustrates the condition of the freedmen of the South. 

Ignorance, superstition, and immorality are inevitable 
forces which would, if left alone, drag the unrestrained 
negro race back to the jungles of savagery; and, with the 
two centuries of accumulated hot vengeance in his heart, 
against his oppressors, he would become tenfold more 
dangerous than the wild beast of the forest. Thus destroy- 
ing the hope, the happiness and the lives of others, would 
be the means of his own destruction. 

On the other hand, mental and moral training will be 
the great individual and racial sustaining force, which will, 
in time, bring the race into moral, religious and political 
concord with his advanced w T hite brother. 

In the very beginning of his freedom, in the South, the 
law could make no allowance for what the negro had been. 

He must rise or fall by its application to American cit- 
izens, and not to unlearned, ex-slave negroes, and this 
made it all the more imperative that these people should 
come up to the full measure of manhood, in the shortest 
possible time. 

When Maudelle appeared upon the field, she found a 
good work already begun by the general government, as 
well as by several white church denominations. As fast 



MAUDELLE. 



as the seceded states took their former places in the union 
of states, each had a free school system incorporated in its 
constitution. In addition to the public schools, which were 
established for the children of both white and colored, 
the colored people — whose need for education was more 
pressing than that of the whites — supplemented the day 
school with a night pay school, for those too old to take 
advantage of the state public school. 

With this laudable exhibition of the negro for self-sus- 
tainment, Maudelle came to their aid, and made some of 
these night schools prominent institutions of learning. 

The writer of this particular article was installed as a 
teacher in one of those night schools, and the work was the 
most pleasant of all other labors of this life. 

The scenes presented in these night schools were such as 
to fill the human heart with sympathy too deep for expres- 
sion in anything but tears. 

The school-building was nothing more than an old log 
hut, twenty feet square, with no windows and only one door 
not high enough to admit a common-sized person without 
his stooping. 

The seats were simply logs, hewn on two sides; one of 
which furnished the seat, and the other, turned to the floor, 
kept the log in place. 

Into this primitive school-room sixty or seventy people 
crowded every night with intense eagerness for the trial 
of their long-neglected mentality. Many of the pupils 
had already grown gray in age, and misshapen in form, 
in the service of the white race. 

Night after night these old people wrestled with then- 
letters, cheered on by the hope that they might learn to 
read God's word before death overtook them; and they 
were rewarded with that much learning and more, although 
many of them were between the ages of fifty and eighty 
years. 



304 



MAUDELLE. 



The teacher gave private lessons to an old ex-slave 
woman, ninety-seven years old, not able to walk to the night 
school. The lesson consisted of but one simple word of 
three letters, the word "God." All she wanted w r as to 
know that one word at sight, that she might be enabled to 
pick out the word from among others in the Bible. She 
stuck to her task, day and night, until she had learned the 
word and learned it well. 

Then the faithful old soul, almost to the gate of eternity, 
would sit for hours gazing at the word and pressing it to 
her heart, while tears of thanksgiving poured down her 
sweet, old, motherly, honest, furrowed face. 

After she had learned the word " God", it seemed that the 
soul had got the ideal for w T hich it had w r aited ninety-seven 
years, and now it hastened on the journey and crossed the gulf 
between itself and its God, three short months afterwards. 

A few hundred yards from w T here that old woman lived, 
and but a little way removed from where she now sleeps 
in death, the teacher had another experience in Southern 
schools, which may be of some interest to the reader, if 
only to show some parts of the road on which the negro 
has travelled to obtain the education he now has. 

The second school work, like the first, was in the wild 
backwoods. The pupils came from within a radius of six 
or eight miles, especially those of the night school, who were 
not limited to districts. 

The second house, or hut, w r as almost an exact duplicate 
of the first, except the improvement by a stick chimney, 
made of mud, dry grass and sticks. This four-by-five fire- 
place furnished such warmth as it could against the odds 
of a sharp, January blast pouring in through a thousand 
or more large openings between the logs. 

But between the compact crowd of pupils and our stick 
chimney, we managed to go on " swimmingly" without 
freezing. 



3°S 



MAUDELLE. 



So as to avoid trouble and unpleasant opposition to the 
work, the teacher made it his first duty to consult the whites 
and try to win them over to his way of thinking. 

But this was a task not always accomplished, and the 
case in hand was one of those failures. 

The opposition seldom came from school boards; they 
generally made appointments according to law; moreover, 
the directors were men who favored negro education; 
but the tax payer of the district had to be reckoned with. 

In the present case, the teacher was plainly told by the 
white neighbors that they would not tolerate a negro school 
in that district, and it would be unsafe, should he attempt 
to force it on them. 

He tried in every way possible to show them that an ed- 
ucated negro would be a safer and better citizen than one 
totally ignorant of his duty to his neighbor, to law, to order, 
to decency, to God and himself. 

"But," said they, "We have a method by which a negro 
is made to behave himself, without all that waste of time 
and money, merely to spoil him with book learning." 

In the little town of whites, consisting of less than a 
dozen families, there was one really good, old, white man, 
known to black and white as "Uncle Sipe." Uncle Sipe 
was postmaster, justice of the peace, preacher and only 
merchant in the town. 

The teacher's last resort was to win Uncle Sipe. He was 
already won as far as the principle of negro mental devel- 
opment was concerned, but to openly sanction a thing which 
his constituents opposed, was to him a moral crime which 
he would not commit. 

The nearest that Uncle Sipe would come in using his 
influence in the interest of the teacher, was, he assured the 
teacher, that he need not fear personal violence. 

With this thin margin on which to rely, the school was 
opened ten days after the interview. 



306 



MAUDELLE. 



The length of the school term was to be six months; 
three of which the state provided for, and three months 
by contributions from Miss Maudelle Morroe. Miss 
Morroe also furnished means for a six months' night 
school. 

For three weeks everything ran smoothly, and teacher and 
pupils began to feel that the crisis had passed, if one had 
ever been contemplated. 

But, as it happens sometimes, just when one feels most 
secure, danger is ready to spring from ambush and to crush 
the fondest hopes. 

It came true in this case. 

One night, while the school was going through the ex- 
ercises, the room was thrown into wild confusion by eight 
or ten rough-looking white men entering the room with 
guns in their hands. Fortunately, the cabin had but the 
one outlet, and the men had blocked that. Otherwise, 
men and women would have run, and, no doubt, would 
have been hurt, but, as it was, the teacher managed to keep 
cool and thereby reduced the pupils to order. 

The teacher made room and politely invited "Our wel- 
come visitors" to take seats. 

"No;" said the spokesman, "we are out coon hunting, 
and we have got a half hundred of them treed," of course 
meaning the negroes in the schoolroom. The teacher 
wisely turned it to a joke, and told a good, appropriate story, 
which set the white men and pupils roaring with laughter. 
The fact is, the teacher saw eternity in the muzzle of those 
wicked-looking guns, and he was trying to gain time so 
as to work his way out of the difficulty without broken 
bones. 

The white men refused to take the seats provided for them, 
but instead, sat flat on the floor with the guns between their 
knees. It was impossible to proceed further with the les- 
sons. Every eye was on those guns and nothing else, 



3P7 



MAUDELLE. 



even those of the teacher, who tried to manifest a coolness 
and bravery becoming a leader — but the truth is, that his 
bravery, like that of his pupils, was only skin deep. 

The dogged expression on the faces of the roughs, and 
the very indecent questions put to the women, were signs 
of intended mischief. The teacher suggested that the class 
spend the remainder of the evening singing, "for the ben- 
efit of our visitors," said he. He knew that music well 
rendered would come nearer allaying the ferociousness 
of a wild beast than anything else; much more so that of 
human beings. 

Then song was the only and last resort. He knew his 
pupils could sing, and w^ould bring out all the efficacy there 
is in song, when once they should become warmed up to 
the occasion. 

The leader of the singing, was an old gray-haired woman, 
whose deep, mellow voice would have been a fortune to 
her, had slavery not interfered with its proper training. 

The .teacher said to her, "Aunt Maggie, I want you to 
take the class and do your best singing for our visitors." 

She rose to her feet, as one of the roughs cried out, "Go 
it, old nigger." 

She bowed politely to him and said, "By de help of de 
good Lord, I'll try to please you gemmen." 

She named the piece to be sung, pitched the tune and 
went to work with her whole heart. The teacher noted 
every expression in the faces of the whites, while the sing- 
ing went on. 

When the first song ended, one of the roughs said, " Give 
us another, old gal." 

The old woman caught the spirit of encouragement from 
the man's request. Song after song was called for, and 
given in a hearty response. 

By this time the white men were showing a respectful 
and intense interest, and the teacher took advantage of 



3P* 



MAUDELLE. 



the favorable sign of peace, by telling a story which had the 
effect he hoped for. 

He told of one of the South's black mammies, who cared 
for her young master from childhood up to manhood, 
and when he went into the Confederate Army, how she 
disguised herself in men's clothing and followed his regi- 
ment, so as to be on hand to nurse him, in case he got 
wounded. 

He went through several engagements unharmed, but 
was finally shot down, when she threw off her disguise, 
hastened to the field of blood, found her young master, 
and with her strong arms brought him into camp, and held 
him in her lap with the love and tenderness of a mother, 
until he expired. As he was dying she sang his favorite 
song, " Sweet angels, come, come, carry me home." 

"Now," said the teacher, " Aunt Maggie, I want you and 
the class to sing that song and do your best, for it may be 
that the spirit of that brave soldier is now T on its way to this 
cabin to join in the grand symphony of its favorite song." 

The old woman, standing like a white- capped monument 
of heaven, with eyes suffused with tears, opens the song 
slowly and modestly, and then carries the class up and up, 
by gentle gradations, until the sixty-five voices seemed to 
have fused into one harmonious volume, and reached an 
excellence of such spiritual height, that every fibre of wood 
in the cabin seemed to dance in holy rapport with the match- 
less melody. 

During this last song, the teacher noticed several of the 
men pulled their hats down over their faces and appeared 
greatly affected; it was evident that the songs led by that 
dear, old, white-haired woman had saved the school. 

The school was at once dismissed, and, as the pupils 
filed out in perfect order, the white men came forward 
and shook hands with the teacher and the old woman who 
had lead the singing. Thus, wirnt at first had the appear- 



30Q 



MAUDELLE 



ance of the beginning of a bloody massacre, was reversed, 
and made the occasion of a peaceful and happy ending. 

Two weeks after this little episode, as the teacher walked 
leisurely along through two miles of woods, to the school, 
when within a quarter of a mile of the place, he heard a ter- 
ribly distressed wailing going on among the children. 

He knew that something was radically wrong, from the 
unusual outburst of such a noise. 

He sprang off into a brisk run, so as to reach them as 
soon as possible. 

On reaching the scene, the first thing which met his eyes 
was the smoking ruins of the cabin, which had burned down 
sometime during the night. 

The children were greatly distressed, because they took 
the destruction of the school-house to mean, that it was the 
end of the opportunity to get any part of an education. 

"Dry your tears," said the teacher, "this is not the time 
to weep, but it is the time to think; and after mature think- 
ing, then to earnest action." 

The teacher sat down on a stump, the seventy children 
sat on the earth around him, and waited breathlessly for 
a w T ord of encouragement. 

The picture, no doubt, was comical, but back of the lu- 
dicrous scene, was a moral pathos, worthy the portrayal 
of the finest, cultured, artistic genius, or the divine, fanci- 
ful dreams of a poet. 

Here sat seventy infant representatives of a race, back 
of whose history was a barren, uncivilized ancestry, with a 
mental and moral rating of equality, with the lower animals. 
Were these conditions to continue, and perhaps increase 
in severity, until they forced the negro back into conditions 
even worse than those out of which he was trying to rise? 

If these seventy, crouching, distressed children and other 
thousands of the South were to bespeak the beginning of 
a new civilization for the black man, through the school- 

310 



MAUDELLE. 



room, it was high time to be about it. These were they, 
as well as those to follow, who must redeem the hated name 
of the negro, if it can be done. 

When the teacher had matured plans to re-establish 
the school, he made no explanation to the pupils, because 
he knew that to give the idea to immature minds which 
could not grasp it, would leave a doubt as to its feasibility, 
and a lack of energy on their part in the work to be ac- 
complished. 

"I want twenty good, strong boys to stand out there in 
a row," said the teacher. 

Many more than the number sprang to their feet and 
lined up. 

A call was made for twenty girls, and they as quickly 
fell into line. The other pupils were more than anxious 
to be called out, but they were too small to be of service, 
and the teacher satisfied them by assuring them that they 
should have work with him as a reserve force. 

He sent ten boys to their homes to bring axes, the other 
ten to bring spades and shovels. Ten of the girls were to 
bring nails, hammers and hatchets. The other ten were to 
bring cotton sacks, and large baskets. 

When the w T ord was given to go, they bounded away on 
their several missions with a joyous yell. 

The teacher and the smaller pupils selected a suitable 
place in the swamp for a house, where the trees were large 
and stood apart which let in sunlight. 

They built a big fire and waited for the return of the 
delegates — which was but a short time. They came with 
broad, frolicsome grins on their faces and tools on their 
shoulders. 

The teacher then explained how a house was to be built, 
and assigned each one to his work. It was then nearly 
twelve o'clock, but the pupils were so anxious to get to work, 
they would not stop for dinner, but with the earnestness 



3" 



MAUDELLE. 



of beavers, each bent himself to his task, and, as the sun 
went down on that short, January afternoon, the school- 
house was completed. A song and prayer were offered, 
and the building was dedicated to God. 

It may be of some interest to the reader to know something 
of the architectural design, and of the material of which 
the building was constructed. 

The ground plan was thirty by twenty feet. 

Ten deep holes were dug, one at each corner, one between 
the corners on the long side, and two holes on each end be- 
tween the corners, for door posts. 

In the corner holes, four posts were firmly planted in a 
square, six inches apart. These stood ten feet above 
ground, and were nailed together at the top with cleats. 
These posts were retainers for poles, which were to form 
the sides and end walls of the house. 

The boys cut the poles, the girls dragged them to the build- 
ing and the teacher and smaller children put them into 
place. The poles were about three or four inches in diam- 
eter, and long enough to reach the corners and lap eight 
or ten inches. The opening for doors in each end were 
six feet wide, to serve three purposes, for doors, windows 
and ventilation. 

After the walls were up to the top of the corner post, 
poles were laid across the top for roof support. 

The next process was to weave small branches of trees 
in between the poles, and then leaves were packed against 
the walls and held in place by layers of brush until the 
leaves and brush were five or six feet thick. 

The top, or roof, was treated in the same way, except that 
the leaves and brush were built up and rounded off like a 
rick of straw, which was proof against any rain that ever fell. 

Everything was complete, except seats. To this work 
they proposed to devote the next day (Friday), and be ready 
to open school on Monday. 



312 



MAUDELLE. 



Somehow the news had become current in the neigh- 
borhood of the loss sustained by the burning of the log 
cabin, and the efforts of teacher and pupils to supply the 
loss. 

On Friday morning, teacher and pupils were on hand 
with tools, for the purpose of cutting and hewing logs seats, 

A few minutes after they had begun work, teacher and 
pupils were startled by the appearance of three white men, 
who rode up to the hut, dismounted, and went inside, and 
seemed to be busy inspecting the work. 

They came out and called the teacher. He went to them 
with an air of braver}', but the fact is, the air was all there 
was to it. The others were in the gravest apprehension 
for their safety. However the inten-'ew did not warrant 
the foreboding. 

These gentlemen'congratuiated the teacher on his unique 
structure, and contributed the lumber needed for seats, 
provided the colored neighbors would make them. 

One of the white men was one of the visitors for whom 
the school had sung two weeks before. 

Saturday was a busy day at the school-house — -making 
benches, etc., by the neighbors. The school-house, or 
more properly speaking, school-cave, was a decided im- 
provement on the log'cabin, from the fact, it'was ten feet 
longer, much warmer^in winter and cooler in summer, 
and had comfortable seats. But best of all, the teacher 
had gained the friendship of the white people of the neigh- 
borhood, which remains unbroken to this day. 



3^ 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 



THE REASON WHY. 

Those on the ground, who were disposed to look at things 
in the light of fairness to all concerned, could not blame the 
whites for their stern objection to the manner in which 
some of the colored schools were conducted. 

The establishment of colored schools came at a time 
when the Southern states were passing through the trying 
ordeal of reconstruction. Aside from financial embarrass- 
ment from the effects of the war, they were chafing under 
defeat. 

The tens of thousands of acres of the fertile fields of 
the South abandoned to huge crops of weeds, briers, and 
brush, wild cats, hooting owls and bears, were indeed, a 
sad sight. 

At the same time, the South had to carry the pro rata 
of taxation to support the state and general government. 

The school tax seemed to be a needless expense, against 
which a majority of the Southern people entered an uncom- 
promising protest. 

And those who were cognizant of the two-fold purpose 
which many of the schools were made to serve, are willing 
to acknowledge, that the Southern people were warranted 
in protesting against the advantage taken of their weak- 
ness, through the schools. 

The facts were simply these: 

In many of the school districts in the state of A., there 
were both white and colored teachers employed in colored 
schools, at salaries varying from eighty dollars to one 

\ $?* 



MAUDELLE 



hundred and twenty-five dollars per month, who were totally 
incompetent as teachers. 

These men were not paid for their service in the school- 
room, because that w r as decidedly worse than none at all, 
from the fact that all their teaching had to be unlearned at 
a later day. 

But the school was a kind of sinecure for the teacher 
who had the tact and shrewdness to work up a political in- 
fluence among his patrons. 

This influence was to be used in the county and state 
conventions, to further the interests of some friendly polit- 
ical aspirant. 

Of course this does not apply to all who were engaged 
in school work, especially does it not include women teachers, 
who were more free from political obligations. 

But the South had lost its patience, and also its sense 
to discriminate between the good and the bad, between the 
competent, conscientious teacher, and the imposter. 

The general verdict was, that there w r ere none good w r ho 
came from the North, and thus the threatening hand of 
the South was raised against all new comers. 

Again, negro education was a new and unpopular thing 
in the South, to which the South could not accommodate 
its prejudice in so short a time as seven years. 

From a view-point of reason, no one familiar with the 
former relations between the tw r o races, could have ex- 
pected a ready acquiescence of the whites to negro educa- 
tion. The idea involved was not only a political parallel- 
ism w r ith the white man, but w r as to him an advanced step 
toward social equality. 

The white man believed that the negro was a product 
of special creation made to order by the Almighty, to serve, 
and not to think or rule. 

This paradoxical status assumed by the South, was in 
exact keeping with the teaching of the nradle, school-room 



MAUDELLE. 



and pulpit, and reinforced by immovable rock-ribbed en- 
vironments, which were interwoven in the white man's 
e very-day life for centuries. 

Again, they contended that the contents of a textbook 
could never be got down through the thick skull of a negro ; 
but the fact that text books were so rigidly guarded before 
emancipation, makes the honesty of this statement very 
doubtful. 

To say that the negro could not 3 earn the science of let- 
ters and figures, and how to apply education to profit, was 
a contradiction to the white man's theory. Why was the 
negro not allowed to try? Why make it a crime of such 
significance, with a penalty of such terrible proportions, 
whereby a white man, who was known to teach a negro to 
read or write, suffered the penalty of having a hand cut off ? 

If the negro was only a stupid, two-legged brute, with a 
gift of speech for the convenience of his owner, but without 
capacity of mind to learn, why not give him the same free- 
dom with books one would his ox or mule ? 

The Southern white man, of all others of America, was 
particularly well versed in negro psychology; he knew the 
negro's process of reasoning and the bent of his mind. 

He knew that in education there was power, and that an 
educated negro would grasp that power and assume the 
prerogatives of his own being, and strike out for freedom 
in thought and action, on a higher plane than that of 
crouching vassals of antebellum days. 

Without an education, the negro had already demon- 
strated a wonderful sagacity and shrewdness in outwitting 
the white man, and proved a capacity of mind, a daring- 
ness and nobleness of manhood against a world of odds. 
This is made clear, when we take into account the thousands 
who escaped from the South with but the thread of a chance. 

They matched their ignorance 3 against their master's 
educa ion; the moss on the North' side of the swamp trees, 

316 



MAUDELLE. 



against their master's knowledge of geography; their native 
shrewdness, against the trained overseer and vigilant patrol- 
man; their fleetness of foot and cunning manceuvering, 
against the trained blood hound. 

Their alertness and skilful dodging of the Northern 
slave-catchers, under the fugitive slave law, and their safely 
reaching Canada, to the number of more than thirty thou- 
sand, were achievements which have no parallel in the his- 
tory of any people. 

But these things are behind us and would not be men- 
tioned, but for their value to illustrate the possibilities of 
the negro race. 

With the evidences of every-day negro sagacity, a white 
man of even ordinary intelligence knew very well that the 
negro could learn, at least, enough to become master of 
himself, so as to make contracts and dictate terms of busi- 
ness interest. 

No doubt, the South had no faith in the negro's capacity 
of mind, to take in and digest the intricacies of mathematics, 
languages, etc., and rather hoped he could not, because 
this advanced step would move him up from what was con- 
sidered his place and bring him into uncomfortable prox- 
imity to the white man. 

This repugnance to negro advancement is the sequence 
of the negro's tame submission to an abject state of vas- 
salage. The white man is by nature a fighter, and he has 
great respect for fighters, but the utmost contempt for a 
coward, either in an individual or a nation. 

Had the negro put less value upon life, and more upon 
freedom, he would have gained the world's respect, as did 
the Indian. 

The negroes were giants in physical make-up, but in- 
significant pygmies in moral courage, when occasions rose 
for them to rise and strike for liberty. A few rose to a re- 
spectable resistance, but not enough to give the race a 



3i7 



MAUDELLE. 



character of courageous manhood. No one but can admire 
the bull-dog combativeness of the Confederate soldier, 
who fought until all resources were exhausted. And when 
the cry came " enough," it was not in the sense of an ac- 
knowledgment of any wrong-doing, but because they were 
too weak to fight longer, while the spirit of resistance still 
lives. The South would as readily fight to-day, as it did 
in i860, if the occasion were such as to warrant it, and the 
outlook promised success. But it will never be necessary 
to fight again to re-establish the lost cause, or, at least, 
as much of that as relates to the negro, because the con- 
trolling influence over the negro, as a master, has been 
more than regained under another name — autocrat, per- 
haps, is the most suitable. The fact is, that the great mass 
of ignorant negroes presented a much more lucrative field 
for the white man's pecuniary gain, at less expense than 
slavery. 

With a keen business sense, for which that race is 
distinguished, they took advantage of the opportunity. 
Under the new condition of things, there is no loss to 
the white man by runaway negroes, no loss of time to him 
by the sickness of the negro, no thousand dollars lost by 
the death of the negro, no loss for clothing and food 
supply for negroes, no expense for overseer, patrolman or 
bloodhounds. 

And the best of it all is, that the autocrat, unlike the 
master, can, at least, sleep well at night, without any fear 
of his tw r o-legged property walking off between suns, or 
striking back in a bloody insurrection. 

The ignorant negro neither knew the correct purchasing 
power of a dollar- nor how to exchange values for profit, 
nor how to estimate the worth of his labor. When 
asked to put a price on his labor, either by the day, month 
or job, nine times out of ten, he would answer, "Whatever 
you think is right." 



MAUDELLE. 



What could be expected of an employer, but that he would 
first think for himself, when allowed such unquestioned 
latitude? This is world-wide human nature. Thus, it 
is the application of the same old principle under a new 
name. Whereas the negro had an overseer at the expense of 
the white man, under the old principle, it is an agent, under 
the new, for which the negro pays. The negro was sold 
on the auction block, in the good old days; he is now sold 
on the agent's books, in these days, at the plantation store. 

His allowance per week was a peck of corn meal, and a 
few pounds of hog meat, under the old regime; but under 
the new, it is to the extent of his crop, specified by an iron- 
clad mortgage. 

The truth is, that a large majority of plantation negroes 
are just as much in slavery to-day as at any time in the 
history of the race, and with decidedly less chance for free- 
dom, because they have ignorantly bargained, sold and 
delivered their own persons, and no one has the right to 
interfere. The negro is now, and will be until educated, 
a profitable and easy prey to those who are disposed to 
gamble with ignorance. It is a sinful shame, how T negroes 
were induced to buy up all the old, broken race horses, 
which may have had a reputation twenty years ago, but 
were represented as the finest and fastest horses in the coun- 
try and capable of winning thousands of dollars for the 
owner. 

Unreasonably high prices were paid for old carriages 
and even dogs. One negro, well known to the writer, 
paid one hundred and fifty dollars for an old gun used in 
the war of 1812, because the gun w r as represented as having 
a wonderful reputation, and " would kill a mile." 

When the wTiter protested against such imposition, and 
explained the truth of the matter to the negro, he slipped 
off and told the white man that the writer w r as meddling 
with his trade; and the w T riter had to answer for it. 



MAUDELLE. 



To question a white man's word, was a serious thing. 
He was supposed to be infallible and could not make a 
mistake. For this thought the negro should not be blamed, 
because, to him, the white man had everything, knew every- 
thing, and could do everything. 

The negroes fresh from slavery were nothing more than 
big, black, overgrown children, set free to enjoy a great play 
day without interference. Their concept of law, order 
and common decency was analogous to the ruling of the 
former master, which was applied differently to different 
households. 

Some masters allowed their slaves to forage, (a refined 
name for stealing) from their neighbors; and unless they 
were caught in the act, there was neither sin in the robber, 
nor redress for the robbed. Hence the reputation for steal- 
ing little things, which could be used up in a night, or se- 
creted in some small place, obtained then and even now. 
This habit of petty thieving is a means by which the county 
farms are now supplied with labor, and it will continue thus, 
until the negro is educated out of this day of small things, 
and learns the tricks of his white brother — how to be a de- 
cent thief by stealing a state treasure, a national bank, an 
eight-million-dollar or a ten-million-dollar stock company, 
a railroad train, or a governor of a state, or president of the 
United States. 

This shows the large and matchless capacity of the Anglo- 
Saxon mind, which is much to be admired, inasmuch as 
it assumes a character of honor, and power over the 
courts, which seem to have no jurisdiction to punish such 
offenders. 

But there is great hope for the success of the negro on 
this plane, since he is an excellent imitator of the white 
man's vices, and sometimes his virtues. While the habit 
of imitating is an unconscious acknowledgment by the negro, 
that whatever the white man does, is right, it will be one 



3 20 



MAUDELLE. 



of the most potent principles in the work of bringing the 
negro to the white man's level. 

The negro began the important work of copying the habits 
of his former master in the first hours of his freedom. 

He had seen his master take plenty of rest, and the more 
rest, the higher the grade of aristocracy. 

The really high-toned, pure-blooded, Southern gentle- 
man neither laced nor unlaced his shoes, combed his hair, 
took his bath, nor scarcely ate for himself. 

This was indeed an attractive phase of freedom, which 
the negro was going to try; but not having slaves like his 
master, he partially supplied the missing link by pressing 
his wife into service. 

Of course it was the general rule for the wives of the ex- 
slaves to plow, hoe and pick cotton, side by side with their 
husbands, and at the same time take care of their infants, 
by placing them in the shade of a tree in the field. A half 
hour before noon, the wife was allowed to go to the house 
to prepare dinner by twelve o'clock. 

The husband would eat his dinner, (the wife invariably 
waiting until he got through), and lie down to rest for an 
hour, while she had to take off his shoes, fill and light his 
pipe, give him a drink of w r ater, etc. 

Then she had to eat her dinner, clean the dishes, and be 
ready to go to the field with him, without a moment's rest. 

The writer has seen this more times than there are days 
in a year. 

Again, it was a common thing for a negro to hire out his 
wife by the month, or year, to work on the plantation. 
Whether it suited her or not was no business of hers. He 
also collected the money for her service, just as the master 
had done before him. Had the negro's treatment of his 
wife stopped with this — it was then bad enough — but it 
even went into corporal punishment, on the same basis 
as that learned under his master. And these ex-slave women 



MAUDELLE. 



never raised their hands in self-defense until they had 
learned in the school-room, under competent teachers, 
that they had redress in the courts. 

Unfortunately for the black man of the South, he was 
imposed upon by a class of unprincipled white men from 
the North, who had been camp-followers of the Northern 
army, and w T ho remained in the South as spoil seekers, 
after the war. They saw a political value in the negro, 
of which they took advantage. 

They represented themselves as having, "fought, bled 
and died for negro freedom." Their word on that was 
enough to entitle them to all the adoration which the soul 
of the negro was capable of expressing. 

The Southern white man tried in vain to convince the 
black man that these fellows were imposters. But that 
these men had never owned a slave, was in itself a recom- 
mendation worth more to the negro than all the wisdom 
of the South. And it was not until these irresponsible 
men had put the ex-slave and his former master to fighting, 
that the negro saw his mistake. 

This by no means applies to that class of honest, upright, 
Northern white men who came South for a better purpose. 
They brought with them money, brains, and push, which 
they willingly put into the Southern soil for their own good 
and the good of the commonwealth of the state. The 
negro always has had safe advisers in these men. Of course 
the Southern negro did not know the difference between 
the two classes of white men from the North, but they are 
well known to the writer. 

The South never did, nor never will, produce a white 
man who was, or can be, a greater enemy to the negro 
than were those poor, low, unprincipled white men of sev- 
eral large cities of the North. From 1858 to 1866, the ne- 
groes of the North lived a life of restless intolerance, with 
no more assurance of life than a stray dog. 



322 



MAUDELLE. 



He had neither the protection of the law nor of a 
master. 

To be caught out after night in any back street in Phila- 
delphia, New York, Albany, Troy and many other cities, 
was imminently dangerous to life and limb of the negro. 
Although they were chased, caught, beat, cut and often 
killed in the presence of the police, who never offered so 
much as a simple protest. 

During the Civil War, mobs became more frequent, in 
open day, in any part of the city and for no offense, ex- 
cept that of being black, 

When negroes appealed to the city authorities for protec- 
tion, they were advised to keep off the streets, as the best 
means of safety. 

They were not allowed to do any kind of public work. 
They were driven from the stores, as porters, and from 
buildings, as janitors, and hotels, as waiters. 

The spirit of mob violence reached its inhuman, bloody 
culmination in 1863, in New York City. It was brought 
on by a draft, which was ordered by the general government, 
to make up the state's quota of men for the army. 

Although the draft applied to black, white, rich and poor, 
the low class of whites resisted it on the excuse it was to 
free niggers. 

The mob swelled to more than three thousand wild, mad, 
drunken men, armed with axes, picks, crowbars, knives, 
pistols and firebrands. Their first work of death was aimed 
at the colored orphan asylum with its several hundred chil- 
dren and teachers, nurses and help. 

The building was fired, and every known place of exit 
was guarded by the mob, intending to murder those who 
should attempt to escape. 

Night and day for seventy hours, that raging, ranting, 
howling mob made the city a boiling hell of tears, blood 
and fire. 



3^3 



MA0DELLE. 



"Kill the nigger, kill the nigger/' was the demoniacal 
howl which rose highest above the roaring flames and the 
smashing of doors and windows. 

Black men, women and children were dragged from street 
cars, from their homes, and places of business, their throats 
cut, skulls crushed, and some were tied to lamp posts and 
burned alive. 

But enough of that. It makes the soul sick to recall those 
horrid scenes; and the writer has forced himself to do so, 
that the negroes of the South may see that they misplaced 
their trust, when they reposed it in the low class of Northern 
w T hite men. 

It is not the intention of the writer to shield the South 
in its crime of killing negroes, which will be more fully ex- 
plained in its proper place. But suffice it to say, at present, 
that the South never has made a wholesale slaughter of 
negroes without some kind of a provocation — not always 
enough, of course, to justify the crime. But the Southern 
mob has never sunk so low in brutality, as to wilfully murder 
innocent women and infants. The Northern mob, in its 
beastly savagery, slew everything with human life, from the 
oldest, infirm and decrepit person to the nursing infant. 
This is no doubtful information, gathered from news jour- 
nals, but it was under the painful and personal observation 
of the writer. 

Five years had now passed since Maudelle came into the 
South to give her time and means to the work of educating 
negroes — which brings us to 1877. 

After travelling through all the Southern states and noting 
every phase of the condition of the negro and the tone 
and temperament of the whites, she saw but one hope for 
the negro, but one hope for a self-sustainment in the strug- 
gle of life, and that hope was education; not simply an ed- 
ucation that ends with a knowledge of a few text books, 
but an education which develops the whole man. 

P4 



MAUDELLE. 



"The head, heart and hands," said she, " must enter into 
the work of a successful life. And without this the major- 
ity of negroes will never advance a step from the gloomy 
background where slavery left him. 

" Unlike the white man, the negro has no cultured ante- 
cedents to draw on, no center point from which to begin — 
a measurement of his racial possibilities. 

"He is just born to-day from the great womb of slavery 
with eyes still closed to the light of civilization. His in- 
fantile racial life is not assured, and cannot be, until he 
has successfully passed the experimental stage of human 
uncertainties. 

"Among these uncertainties are industry, economy, per- 
severance, endurance, business sense, capacity of mind, 
honesty, integrity and sobriety. But if it is shown by a fair 
test of patient experience, that the negro is wanting in these 
essential elements, then state aid and philanthropic inter- 
est should be withdrawn, and the negro left to his fate. 
But, thank God! the reverse is true. And this is the much 
discussed question of to-day, in every part of this country, 
by the wisest heads in state and church." 

Continuing, Maudelle said to a very prominent Southern 
gentleman who opposed negro education: 

"Ignorance is a contagious malady, and more dangerous 
in its effects than any other disease which ever plagued a 
community. It is a worse distemper than any other, be- 
cause it is the hardest to get rid of, and each victim goes 
through life spreading the deep-seated disorder on all sides 
of his pathway. But more to the point," said she, "I notice 
that the negro not only has a dark, superstitious mind of 
his own, but he has imparted his ignorance to the poor 
whites — which indeed, has often shown itself in the high 
circles of white society as well. 

"This is seen in the foul use of tobacco and snuff. It 
is a common occurrence for black and poor white women 



32S 



MAUDELLE. 



to loan and borrow snuff,^and even use the same snuff 
brush from each other's mouths. I have also seen white 
women of wealth and culture abandoned slaves of snuff- 
dipping, which they learned from their black mammies 
and other servants. 

"I have seen white and black men exchange compliments 
with tobacco, by biting a chew, not only from the same piece, 
but from the same place where the other had bitten. 

"It is still worse when one sees the tobacco come from 
the pocket of dirty working pants, of either race, which 
never had been washed, and which had vitiated the tobacco 
with the perspiration and the odor of the body. 

"I have seen the negro's thick, tobacco-stained lips hug 
the mouth of a whiskey jug; and when he had drunk and 
gurgled his fill, then the white man has drunk from the 
same jug without a thought of wiping off the slimy saliva 
of the negro's lips. 

"I have seen the poor whites worshipping in their back- 
woods church, and go through all the wild and frantic halu- 
cinations of the ignorant negro. He has also firmly fas- 
tened his belief in ghosts in the minds of the poor whites. 

"He has a large following of whites, who believe in con- 
juration, witch-craft and fortune-telling. The cunning 
negro conjurer manages, somehow, to turn his eyes red; 
and with a pair of red eyes as a native, genuine diploma, 
he exerts a wonderful influence over black and white. 
Very frequently, young white men and girls seek the aid 
of the root worker in complicated cases of love affairs. 
The conjurer always keeps a great number of little pack- 
ages or bottles, in stock, known as 'a hand,' which range 
in price from twenty-five cents to five dollars, according to 
the gravity of the case to be treated. 

" 'A hand,' consists of parts of a dried snake and liz- 
zard, various roots, earth from a grave and pieces of bone 
of a dead human being. 



326 



MACDELLE. 



"If any person or persons, has enemies whom he wishes 
to injure, the conjurer prepares what is known as 'a throw'. 
The 'throw' is a preparation of roots and powders of dried 
reptiles, liquids, etc., which are to be planted in the path 
or under the door step of the enemy. If the enemy is not 
brought down according to the promise of the conjurer, the 
failure is charged to the interference of some other con- 
jurer at work for the enemy. In a case of this kind a 
stronger 'throw' has to be compounded, and, of course, 
a considerably larger fee exacted. 

"A very large majority of whites and blacks wear luck 
bags about the neck. The famous rabbit foot is a negro 
conjurer's invention, notwithstanding I have heard of the 
credit going to others. 

"Again," said she, "the ignorant negro has a sign for 
good and bad luck for every day and almost for every hour 
in the year, and all these he has saddled upon the whites 
as well as upon his own race. 

"Those w r ho believe in such things live a life of constant 
uneasiness, as they are tossed back and forth between the 
signs of good and bad luck, hoping in one and fearing the 
other. 

"I see also that the negro has incorporated his peculiar 
w T ords into the language of the whites, which are in every- 
day use. Some of these are, 'gwine' for going; c Fs done 
done it,' for I have done it; 'gwon' for go on; 'I gin it' for 
I gave it. In fact, there is a long list of words of purely 
negro origin, which are in common use among both races, 
that will require years to unlearn. 

"There are also habits and rules of the household which 
are common to both races, when they approach others' 
social standard. 

"Of course, the w T hite man generally poises as the negro's 
adviser, in right of his color; but while he assumes the role 
of teacher, he himself is being unconsciously taught by the 



MAUDELLE. 



cunning negro, and the result is, the two grow up alike in 
everything but color." 

Col. Stephens, who was radically opposed to negro ed- 
ucation, said in reply, "Miss Morroe, your argument is 
that of a Northern lady, and I could not expect you to have 
any other opinion than that which favors negro education, 
negro preferment and even negro social equality. 

"We Southern people know the negro as you know a 
book. He is not ready for education, and will not be, 
until he has first learned the meaning of freedom, which 
means to be honest, industrious and morally pure; and it 
will take a hundred years to get all this into his thick skull. 

"Education, at present, will make the negro insolent 
and overbearing, and we would have to kill him to make 
him know his place." 

"It is not the negro," said Maudelle, "more than other 
people, in whom the Northern people are interested." 

"It would be the same for the whites, under the same 
conditions as the negro. We are moved by a sense of duty 
to common humanity, and not especially to creed or color; 
and this shows a nobleness of heart, which, at least, should 
be commended, if not agreed with." 

" O, well, if you people have plenty of money and time to 
waste on the experiment of negro education, that is your busi- 
ness, but it will go without my sanction," said the colonel. 

Continuing, Maudelle said, "I have tried to show you 
that the influence of the ignorant negro is reflected in the 
life and character of your own race, and this state of affairs 
will continue as long as the two races are in proximity to 
each other." 

"You will have to segregate or educate. Which w r ill 
you do?" 

"We will legislate the negro out of social and political 
existence," said the colonel, as he turned andwalked away, 
pulling at his long, gray mustache. 

328 



MAUDELLE. 



Maudelle saw that all argument in favor of negro edu- 
cation only irritated and invited a more formidable op- 
position, and that the work would be of slow growth for 
want of Southern sympathy. 

The outside world has had a great deal of sympathy 
for the negroes of the South, whose struggle for simple ex- 
istence seems to have been the hardest ever met with by 
any other people before. This may, or may not be true, 
but there is a truth back of the negro's trouble, which the 
prominent negro who writes, lectures or preaches, either lacks 
the courage or the will to tell, as it is, for fear, perhaps, he 
will become unpopular and thereby lose some one's in- 
fluence or dollar. 

It is different with the writer ; he is neither courting friend- 
ship nor punishing enemies. 

He will tell the truth on both races, as he understands 
it, and he ought to understand it, since he has been on the 
ground for a third of a century. 



3^9 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



THE NEGRO IN POLITICS. 

To tell a story on an individual or a nation, which in any 
way reflects their bad qualities, it is in justice to them to 
give the reason why, in the spirit of truth and fairness. It 
may be, however, that truth will sometimes come to one in 
an unpleasant form with a sharp, keen edge, which may 
cut deep into the soul's quietude for life. 

We are to say something about negro politicians and the 
politics of the South which have been the prolific incubator 
of almost all the negro's troubles. To go back, if you please. 

1868 to 1876 were years which produced the largest crop 
of negro politicians ever known before or since. Unfor- 
tunately for the negro, he was inducted into politics before 
he had time to learn the first principles of self-preservation, 
much less the politics of the state or community in which he 
lived. He was told by the cheap, third-rate, white poli- 
ticians, that nothing stood between him and the presiden- 
tial chair of the nation. Thus he was encouraged to quit 
the plantation, sacrifice the opportunity for bread-winning 
with plow and hoe, and join in the giddy chase for the al- 
luring phantom of political office. 

That wild, heated campaign of 1872 between Grant and 
Greeley — perhaps the sharpest and most intense ever waged 
between parties before or since — w r as a test of strength be- 
tween former master and ex-slave. 

The one holding with a death-like grip to the advantage 
gained by emancipation, and still later by that of the fifteenth 
amendment, which gave a voting power to be dreaded by 
the opponent; the other making the effort of his life to 



33 Q 



MAUDELLE. 



regain his lost political power at home, and his prestige at 
the capital of the nation. Hence, anything which promised 
to attain that end, was brought into requisition. 

On several occasions, Maudelle and the writer were 
quiet observers at political meetings, where joint debates 
were had between representatives of both political parties. 

It was not unusual to see negroes, who could neither read, 
write nor think correctly, on the platform replying to in- 
fluential, educated, Southern white men. 

Of course, the negroes not having the use of proper words 
in which to clothe such thoughts as they had, their harangue 
became abusive and often insulting. 

There were thousands of such characters in the Southern 
states, appealing to their constituents, trying to show, in 
their way, reasons why they should be elected to the leg- 
islature, or to some state or county office, in preference to 
their white opponents. 

Whether their method of disjointed, argumentative jar- 
gon had sense in it or not, it served the purpose of electing 
hundreds of ignorant negroes to office over their former 
owners. 

Of course, there were great numbers of colored men of 
mental and moral worth, competent to fill the places they 
sought, but to these we shall give a separate place further 
on. 

The close of the election of 1872, put twenty-seven col- 
ored men into the legislature of the state in which the 
writer happened to be at the time. Six of those men were 
educated, seventeen could read and write, four could neither 
read nor as much as write their names. Besides those in 
the legislature, several colored state officers were elected, 
such as Land Commissioner, Superintendent of Public 
Instruction, Superintendent of the Penitentiary, County 
Clerk and Judge of the Police Court, also a great number of 
justices of the peace, deputy sheriffs, constables, police^ etc. 



33 1 



MAUDELLE. 



The writer was well acquainted with a justice of the 
peace and deputy constables who could barely write their 
names, and that was in letters partially printed like those 
of the alphabet. 

It did not take a genius nor a prophet to forsee the 
formidable threatenings gathering upon the brow of the 
Southern white man, whose patience was goaded to the 
extreme limit of forbearance. 

He felt his oppression more keenly than the negro had 
felt slavery, from the fact that it had come without prepar- 
atory schooling, while the negro was conceived, born and 
reared under the heel of oppression and to him it was second 
nature. 

Again, the Southern white man's condition in several 
states was, in some respects, worse than that of the negro. 
From the fact that the negro had nothing to start with, 
and, if he gained nothing by the plunge into politics, he 
would, at least, have as much as before. 

On the other hand, there lay a shattered fortune with 
home and home comforts at the white man's feet, which 
had to be redeemed at any cost whatever, or there would be 
open to him a straight road to a beggar's grave. The negro 
had a fortune in the art and physical strength for manual 
labor. His wants were few, and those few wants were 
easily satisfied. 

The white man's wants were many, but he was without 
the means to supply them, because he had neither the skill, 
physical strength, nor disposition to dig, thus he knew 
that he and his would have to suffer or resort to means of 
support, other than by the plow and hoe. 

The only feasible and easy way out was for the white 
man to turn the black man's labor to his own account. 
And he had the proper requisites at hand, which were more 
than a match for the black man's physical strength; and that 
was, the white man's superior intellect, which served him 



MAUDELLE. 



to find a way out of the most obstinate difficulty. The 
writer has personal knowledge of great numbers of negroes 
who paid not less than seventy, and sometimes a hundred 
per cent, on everything they bought from the plantation 
store, the negroes expected to pay twenty-five per cent, on 
goods purchased under mortgage on credit, against which 
no protest was ever made. 

But there was a secret method known only to the whites 
by which the negroes were absolutely robbed of more than 
half their earnings, and of which they knew nothing for a 
number of years, or until their children had learned enough 
in school to keep some kind of accounts. 

The plans of robbery were exactly these; as were stated 
by some of the white men who were parties to the scheme, 
which the writer overheard, and will recite as nearly as 
possible as he heard them. 

The writer was going down the Mississippi on the steamer 
Mary Belle, bound for New Orleans. The steamer w r as 
loaded- to the water's edge with passengers and cotton, 
so heavily indeed, the captain gave orders on the evening 
of the second day, not to make any more landings between 
Greenville and Vicksburg, Miss. It was in early Spring, 
when the Southland forest and fields were dressed in their 
soft, dreamy, delicate gray greens, and the farmer, with 
his mule and plow was turning the earth upside down, pre- 
paratory to seed-sowing. 

After supper, and the wasteful, foolish cigar-smoking, 
and the lively chat and the hop in the salon, the people, 
one after another, retired, the writer had decided to sit up 
all night and watch the developments of a cigar stump, 
which he had seen a man aim to throw overboard, but 
which missed its destination and went down sparkling among 
bales of cotton. The writer went to his room, made the 
life-preserver ready for adjustment, should the crisis come, 
He then took a seat on the cabin deck, directly opposite 



333 



MAUDELLE. 



where the cigar stump had gone down among the cotton 
bales. It was long after midnight, and on this deck, there 
was no one about, except a watchman or two, who paced 
the deck and now and then, had a word with the pilot. 

There was decidedly more life on the boiler deck, which 
seemed to be the lounging place for those too poor to pay 
cabin fare. 

Just below where the writer sat, were twelve or fifteen 
white men, lying upon cotton bales, frequently passing their 
whiskey bottle around, and discussing the negro question 
with a great deal of warmth, As this question was one in 
which the writer was interested, he gave their version of the 
subject his silent and earnest attention. 

These men evidently belonged to what is now the middle 
class of the whites, as their language and show of preju- 
dice against the negro indicated. During slavery this class 
of whites had no assured social standing with the better 
class of whites. The ruinous, heavy footsteps of war had 
almost reduced all the whites to the same level, and this 
group of men lounging on the cotton bales were representa- 
tives of those who had gone up by negative gravity to the 
middle strata of society, and were poising on the industry 
of negroes. Their explanation of the organization and the 
working principles of the Ku Klux and other death-dealing 
schemes was that they were necessities. The writer saw, 
as he never had seen before, how little value that class of 
men put upon the negro's life. It was evident, that the 
negro had no recognized claims to secure him from whole- 
sale slaughter, except his industry, which was turned to 
the profit of this class of white men. 

With no one to oppose or please, and no one to hear what 
was said, as they supposed, but themselves, they were open 
and unreserved in their conversation, which gave the writer 
a true index to that part of the negro question. To say that 
these men and those they represented were not honest in 



334 



MAUDELLE. 



their convictions, would be^domgvthem an injustice, which 
would neither change their inbornlopinion, nor benefit the 
negro. 

Their reason for mobbing negroes will be mentioned in 
another chapter, while in this, the method of doing a mer- 
cantile business with the negro will be stated exactly as those 
men talked it over. Said they: 

"We rent the land to the nigger for all it is worth — 
which we step off — and we give five or six acres less than 
is in the piece of ground. 

"We then take a mortgage on everything of value and 
about what we think his crop will be w T orth. That ties 
the nigger, hands and feet, so that he cannot buy anything 
anywhere except at the plantation store. Whatever he 
buys by the pound, or quart, or gallon, we knock off on him. 
For instance, when he buys ten pounds of meat, we give 
him seven, or, if it is sugar, meal, coffee, etc., we take off, 
at least, one-fourth. In the same way we also cut down 
molasses, coal oil, etc. 

"Sometimes we run upon a nigger who is kind of sharp, 
and we may have to let up on him a little, and if he com- 
plains, we give him a little something extra, and tell him it 
was a mistake in measuring. Again, we charge niggers 
never less than twenty-five per cent, profit on everything, 
and at the end of the year we run his account into all kinds 
of fractions, and in that way we get him again for a good 
sum, especially if he has made a good crop. In this way 
the nigger pays us much better than he did as a slave, and 
it will be a long time before the d— fools find out they are 
being robbed." 

They gave a detailed statement of how these robbing 
plans were organized and worked among a large majority 
of the Southern planters. 

They were particularly bitter in their denunciation of 
a class of white men whom they designated as "nigger 



335 



MAUDELLE. 



lovers," and also spoke unkindly of some of the former 
slave-holders, who, they said, were spoiling negroes by their 
method of dealing with them, as though they were white 
people. 

Whether this system of robbery applied to other states 
or not, is not known by the writer, but it was certainly true 
of the state in which the narrator lived, and in which the 
writer travelled and took special care to find out by weighing 
and measuring after the plantation merchant, in those 
parts of the state known as the "black belt." But when in- 
vestigating thus, the writer did not dare to let the negroes 
into the secret, although it would have been a protection 
to them, yet they would have betrayed the writer, as they 
had on other occasions, and the result would have been 
serious. 

By ten o'clock next morning, our faithful steamer, after 
bringing us safely down the river and landing us at Vicks- 
burg, took fire and burned in twenty minutes, and no doubt, 
the cigar stump was the origin of the fire. Had the fire come 
on a half an hour before it did, two or three hundred people, 
no doubt, would have lost their lives. Although moored 
at the landing, several persons were lost, as it was. 

We come back now to politics as our theme, from which 
we digressed, a few minutes ago, in order to give place to a 
story which was at one time prevalent in some parts of the 
South. 

If the colored politicians of the South had all been men 
of culture, dignity and acknowledged statesmanship, it 
would be the pride of the writer's life to refer to them as 
proofs of racial possibilities, but, as it is, there were so few 
who measured up to the standard, that their career is but 
dim, flickering lights on the broad plane of political activity. 

At one time the race had seven or eight Congressmen 
at the nation^ capitol, and for education and mental finish, 
they ranked among the best, but for practical, political 



336 



MAUDELLE. 



sense, they were removed but a few steps from the average 
plowman. But if that seems to be putting it too strong then 
will anyone tell the writer of some thought or principle 
that was matured and worked out into a statesmanlike 
document, and then introduced into Congress and pushed 
through it, and become a law that stands to-day as a living, 
working instrument to better the condition of mankind ? 

There w r as one negro from Virginia, distinguished as a 
lawyer and a man of brilliant attainments, who introduced 
a bill into Congress to disfranchise the negroes, so that the 
white politicians of the South might suffer the loss of the 
negro vote. But, after all, that was an idea borrowed from 
James G. Blaine. If these are not facts, and the reader 
will bring forward attested negations, the writer will make 
a public and graceful retraction. 

The writer has no desire to belittle racial efforts on any 
plane, neither will he overestimate racial mentality, in order 
to give the race an exalted reputation it never w r on. 

At the time when the negro was so largely represented 
in Congress, he had also a liberal share of state officials, 
such as auditors, secretaries of state, superintendents of 
public instruction, county and probate judges, and, in one 
state, a governor. 

Some of these officials maintained the dignity of their 
office, and retired with a clean record. Others, again, 
found their exalted position a too sudden lift to prosperity, 
a load too heavy to carry; so they sacrificed position, honor 
and all future expectation to women and wine— two roads 
on which a man can make the fastest time downward. 

The WTiter was personally acquainted w r ith several, and 
knew of many others, who made fortunes ranging from 
tw T enty-five thousand dollars to one hundred thousand dol- 
lars, between 1868 and 1880, but who drank, debauched 
themselves, and died without money to pay for the most 
common, pine burial box. 



337 



MAUDELLE. 



In the enthusiastic moments of race pride, the negro 
reader may say, that these downfalls applied also to white 
men. To this the writer makes willing assent, but that 
will not reverse the judgment of the American people, nor 
lessen the offense of the negro leader. ^ 

Again, the white race has prominent men to spare; if 
one drops out of place, another fills the breach so quickly 
that racial character never feels the least tremor. But not 
so with the negro race, whose prominent men are few, and 
when one disappears, the place goes blank for a generation, 
or longer. 

Again, these recitals of Southern politics and politicians 
are meant to serve two purposes. First, to stand as an 
index to a great deal of the trouble which the negroes of 
the South have had, are having now, and will have for years 
to come. 

Second, it may serve as a guide and friendly warning to 
the new school of young, negro, political aspirants, and, 
if in the evolution of human events, the wheel of fortune 
brings the negro to the top again, he will know better how 
to keep his footing. 

From 1874 to 1876, the local politician became so des- 
perately sanguine of reaching the top, that a claim and 
title to the second place on the national ticket, or at least 
a place in the cabinet, was seriously discussed. 

But those who had sense enough to see the political trend 
of twenty-four hours ahead of every-day life, certainly saw 
an inevitable limit already well defined. The growth of 
negro politics and politicians was too quick, because any- 
thing of speedy growth means early death. 

The mushroom, which matures in a single night, begins 
to die at sunrise next day. A rapid, high flight without 
swaying power, means a destructive, hard fall. In less 
than a dozen years, the negro politicians had won, lost and 
disappeared. 



MAUDELLE, 



And when it was all over, and the great, political cal- 
dron had cooled dowTi to normal, the negro found himself 
without friends, bread or credit. For the laborers of the 
massive Black Belt of the South to face such a positive reality 
at the end of the crop season leaves them to a choice among 
three, desperate alternatives — starvation, theft, or going 
into the hands of the enemy at his owtl dictation. 

They chose the last of the three propositions, and w T hen 
they realized the unlimited power of the iron-clad mortgage 
by which they were bound, they cried out against the white 
man's oppression. 

But the white man, like any other man of good business 
sense, generally goes hunting for the fool who has got 
something valuable, but with not enough sense to keep it. 

At one time the negro held command of the open door 
to all that goes to make a people independent and happy. 
At the close of the war and for several years after, the ne- 
groes might have bought two-thirds of the South's finest 
land for a mere exchange of labor for land or a small cash 
payment. 

This brings up a thought of which the general public 
may not be cognizant. The writer frequently has heard 
it said by public speakers and private individuals, that the 
negroes came out of slavery in a condition of extreme pov- 
erty. One eminent colored bishop said "They came out 
of slavery too poor to own a name; they had to borrow 
names from their masters. " The expression was a nice 
piece of original wit, but by no means did it give the true 
picture of the negro's financial status. If the truth were 
knowm as it really was with the master and slave, the latter's 
condition was more easy and independent than the former's. 
A very large majority of ex-slaves who had been cunning 
and industrious came out of bondage with handsome 
sums of money, some of which had passed down through 
one or two generations. 

339 



MAUDELLE. 



To buy one's self and family before the Civil War it 
was an every-day occurrence well-known to those familiar 
with the history of those days. The writer has gone over 
the ground and has given thirty-two years of careful re- 
search to obtaining reliable data relative to what was true 
of the old South and to what is true in the new. 

It will be within the safe bounds of truth to say that the 
emancipated negro started on his new career of freedom 
with more ready cash in hand than a majority of their 
former owners. 

The industrious, frugal slave had several ways to make 
money. First, they always had, or, at least, could have, 
an individual "truck patch," which they cultivated at odd 
times. Again, each slave had his ow r n task to perform, 
and was paid for all overtime. Another source was to steal 
— no, not steal, but rather take — eggs, chickens, hogs, corn, 
cotton, etc., and sell them to merchants who would buy at 
reduced prices and keep the secret between him and the 
slave. In this and other ways, a large majority of ex-slaves 
were well prepared to have bought tens of thousands of 
acres of the South's finest lands. 

From 1866 to 1870, rich bottom lands, with a soil from ten 
to twenty feet in depth, could have been bought at prices 
varying from fifty cents to two dollars and a half per acre, 
on which the negroes of to-day are paying from four dollars 
and a half to eight dollars rent per acre by the year. 

Now let us see what a thousand acres of land brings to 
the owner at an average of but five dollars per acre as rent, 
for fifty years, an average life-time. It runs up to two hun- 
dred and fifty thousand dollars in the gross. Taking into 
account the stock law, which obviates fencing, and the in- 
exhaustible soil, that needs no fertilizing, leaves only a 
state tax to be deducted, which is so little, that there is ^ut 
a small difference between the gross and the net rental 
profit. 



340 



MAUDELLE. 



But the planter with but a thousand acres is but second 
rate; from ten thousand to twenty thousand acres make a 
reputable planter. The negro's best opportunity to be- 
come land owners in desirable localities has passed never 
to return. 

The writer has interrogated a great number of ex-slaves 
who seemed to have made such little, or no tangible use of 
the money accumulated in slavery. The reason the major- 
ity of them give is about the same. That they had saved 
the money to buy their freedom, but when freedom came 
for nothing, their interest in money was partially lost, and 
the money went for foolish things. 

A few miles from w^here this article is being written, 
there lives an old ex-slave and his wife, whose ages are some- 
where between the seventies and eighties. These old people 
live as mean and destitute as it is possible for human beings 
to live. The old floor less and almost roofless log hut, 
would not make a decent hog pen. 

The old people and the writer have been friends for 
more than twenty years. The old man is undoubtedly 
the most sharp and cunning negro in the state. While 
at the old people's hut one night, as the writer rose to 
leave, the old man said, "Wait a minute, I want to show 
you something.' ' He got down on his knees, scratched 
away the dirt from under the wall, or logs, and drew 
from the earth an old-fashioned, silver, two-quart tea kettle. 
He raised the lid and said, "Look in." The writer was 
amazed to see the vessel full of gold pieces, which the old 
man said had come through three generations, for the 
specific purpose of buying, first, the freedom of his grand- 
father—but his master would not sell him. Then it passed 
into his father's hands, whom his master sold into another 
state, and he had no chance of carrying his treasure 
with him. Then it fell to the son, the present owner, 
whose freedom came through emancipation soon after he 

341 



MAUDE LLE. 



came into possession of the^money, to which he has 
steadily added. 

"Why in the name of God do you not establish a com- 
fortable home?" said the writer. 

"I would/' said the old man, "but let me tell you," con- 
tinued he, "these white folks are going to sure put the nig- 
gers back into slavery; I want the money to buy my — and 
the old woman's freedom." 

The writer argued with him, then and often since, to 
convince him of the impossibility of such a thing, but he 
remains hopelessly insane in his belief, and the several 
thousand dollars rest secure in a hole in the dirt floor of 
his cabin, while the two old people subsist on corn bread, 
coons, opossums, and even rattlesnakes. Of course, there 
are great numbers of ex-slaves who have put their money 
to good use and to-day are independent. There are twenty- 
seven in this county and city well-known to the writer, whose 
start in freedom was begun on money made and saved in 
slavery. There are great numbers of such cases in all the 
Southern states, to attest the truthfulness of our state- 
ment. We know several of those well-to-do negroes, who 
are now supporting their old masters and mistresses, who 
never overcame the misfortune of the Civil War, and, but 
for the faithful ex-slave, would end life in the county poor 
house. 



CHAPTER XXX. 



THE SKULL AND CROSS BONES. 

No sooner had the rebellious states been reconstructed, 
and the white man restored to citizenship, than he bent his 
whole effort to the work of freeing himself from what was 
then known as the negro domination. 

Certainly no people in any age of the world ever resorted 
to more cruel and desperate means than did these people. 

Not only negroes but men of their own color and nation- 
ality suffered alike for like offences, especially those from 
the North whose sympathies were with the negro. 

As strange as it may seem to those not conversant with the 
facts, fully ninety-five times out of a hundred, when negroes 
were beaten or killed, they had been betrayed by some 
sneaking, tell-tale, deceitful negro. 

In every political meeting, every secret caucus, confer- 
ence in secret orders, or even a social gathering, there was 
always a sneak, a white man's watch dog, who carried 
them every word that was said, with the addition of a thou- 
sand lies. 

Said Maudelle to the writer, " True friends have repeatedly 
warned me of the danger of talking too freely among all 
classes of negroes. Yet I gave no credence to such advice, 
because I w T as of the opinion, that on account of their long 
suffering together, and now that a more unrelenting pun- 
ishment had returned upon them, they would be driven to 
gether in one compact body into which treachery could not 
enter 

I could not believe that the negro could be less humane 

or, at least, less sympathetic than the common, soulless 



343 



MAUDELLE. 



animal. I have seen the indolent, stupid hog, with mouth 
agape, rush on to the rescue of one of its kind, when it 
squealed for help. I certainly expected this much, or more, 
from the negro whom I came to help. But in this I was sadly 
mistaken and humiliated, when I found myself confronted 
by enemies, to whom I had to answer." 

This chapter will embrace records of some of the most 
cool, deliberate, bloody scenes that ever blackened the pages 
of American history, before or since. The writer will men- 
tion only such cases as he knows to be absolutely true, 
many of which were from personal observation of the vic- 
tims and places after the crimes were committed. He 
will withhold names of states and places where these mur- 
ders occurred, in order to protect the state and its better 
class of citizens who were not in sympathy with mob 
violence. 

The writer will give the first or last name of the victim, 
the one by which he was known in his neighborhood, so 
that should this book fall into the hands of those cognizant 
of the facts, they can attest the truthfulness of the statements. 

A city located on the banks of the Mississippi River, has 
in it a spot stained by the blood of an innocent young man, 
who was known to his friends as Boaz. He came from St. 
Louis, Mo., to take the management of a department store 
which was owned by two negro planters. 

Boaz became very popular among the colored people. 
He was a fine scholar and also a man of pleasing address. 
He w T as honest and upright himself, and took others to be 
the same, thus he was outspoken on all occasions, and as- 
serted Ms political convictions without reserve. The w r hites 
hated him for his radical republican principles, and the 
local negro politicians were jealous of his influence with 
the prominent white and colored politicians of the state. 

It was agreed between the low class of whites and a low, 
unprincipled negro, that Boaz must be sacrificed to the 



544 



MAUDELLE. 



demon of prejudice and jealousy. The plans were per- 
fected, the night chosen, the assassins assigned and the 
place selected for the bloody deed. 

Between ten and eleven o'clock at night, Boaz had closed 
his place of business and walked leisurely to his boarding 
house. When within a few steps of the gate his name was 
called. He stopped, answered, as the report of a gun 
startled the neighbors. Boaz cried out, "My God! gentle- 
men, what have I done that you should kill me?" He 
was taken into the house and placed on the bed. Just then 
the negro whom everyone suspected as the traitor came 
hurriedly into the house, feigning sorrow a^id surprise. 
The facts were well known afterwards, that the negro came 
in especially to see whether or not the shot was fatal. When 
he saw the victim dying, he left the house and reported to 
the mob, whose footsteps were heard in the yard, and who 
immediately retired after the negro went out. It was the 
intention of the mob to rush into the house and finish the 
work of death, if the victim showed any signs of recovery. 

He died in the arms of the woman to whom be was en- 
gaged to be married in a few months. 

On the opposite side of the Mississippi River, in another 
state, several miles north of the town in which Boaz was 
killed, another negro lost his life while delivering a speech. 

This victim was a negro lawyer from the North, whose 
surname was Wynn. He was a polished, educated man of 
ability. The state was under Republican administration 
at the time, who were pushing a project to build a railroad 
in the state. A public meeting had been called, at which 
ways, means and the feasibility of the undertaking of the 
work w T ere discussed. The Democrats were bitterly op- 
posed to the movement, owing to the taxation and the state 
bond feature. Several had made speeches pro and con. 
Wynn was in favor of the road, and in his speech made 
some allusion to the Democrats, as a slow-going, 



345 



MAUDELLE. 



non-progressive party, whose ox teams were more in 
keeping with their progress than steam cars. 

This speech so incensed the whites, that Wynn was at- 
tacked by two of the whites, (Sanders brothers), who 
stabbed Wynn in the neck with a pocket knife. He fell 
dead in his tracks. 

The two assassins were jailed to await trial. A few 
days afterwards, at midday, a hundred masked negroes 
rode into town, demanded the jail keys, took the men out, 
tied them and shot them to death, and rode off as quietly 
as they had come. Of course, investigation was had, but 
nothing definite developed at the time. But several years 
after the white men were mobbed, and the administration 
of the state had changed, the case was re-opened, and 
dragged slowly through several terms of court, and would 
have worn itself out and been lost sight of, but for a 
negro accomplice who betrayed his associates for a small 
consideration.^ 

In the same state, in an inland town, sixty miles from 
the other tragic scene, and just one quarter of a mile from 
where the writer was teaching school, another tragedy 
occurred. 

This victim was a white man from the North, who was 
very active in organizing "Loyal League Clubs." 

On several occasions he was warned to leave the state 
in a given time, to which he gave no special attention. 
The last threat was a coffin placed on his doorstep, on 
which were painted a skull and cross bones, and the time 
limit of twenty-four hours to leave. 

On the next night, he went before one of the clubs and 
denounced the whites in the most bitter terms, and ap- 
pealed to the negroes to arm themselves and be ready to 
resist to the last drop of blood any attack of the Ku Klux. 

The negroes indorsed all that he said. A number of 
the negroes were assigned to guard the house of their white 

346 



MAUDELLE 



leader, and to shoot down the first man who approached 
the house in the disguise of a Ku Klux. But unfortunately 
for the man, the negro w T atch dog was there, in the guise of 
a friend, and so well covered under his base, cowardly de- 
ception, that he w 7 as known only to God. 

A few hundred yards from the log hut in which they held 
meetings a mob of fifty or sixty armed men were secreted 
in the woods, to whom the negro traitor reported all that 
was said. The mob surrounded the hut, broke down the 
door, and captured a number of negroes, whom they beat 
severely. The white leader and one of the most prominent 
negro officers of the club were bound together with ropes, 
face to face, and a dozen or more bullets were shot through 
both bodies. The next morning they were found lying on 
the ground as they fell, and on them was pinned a paper 
containing these words, "This is the w r ay w T e propose to 
treat all d — nigger-loving white men." 

The last name of the white man was Dollar, that of the 
colored, Dyne. 

Seventeen miles from this scene, and in the same state, 
in a small town, was the scene of another tragedy, in w T hich 
the writer came within a line of being one of the principal 
sufferers. 

A public meeting was being held in the town, prepara- 
tory to an election of town and county officers. The 
speeches made for favorite candidates were fierce and sharp. 
Each opponent and his friends brought forward every 
phase of one another's history, from childhood up, and woe 
unto him whose life could not stand the test of honesty, 
sobriety and fair dealing. 

The negroes had centered on a white man for sheriff, 
who was running as an independent candidate, and the 
general rule of the Democrats was to oppose whomever 
the negroes endorsed, regardless of his standing. A gen- 
tleman with a proud history of Confederate Civil War fame 



Ml 



MAUDELLB. 



honored with the title of colonel, made a speech at the 
public meeting, replete with intense hatred for the negroes 
and their candidate, one paragraph of which we shall re- 
produce. Said he, "The white man who is low enough to 
run over the county and solicit negro votes, does not de- 
serve an office nor the respect of decent white people. I 
would starve to death, and go to h — before I would have it 
said that niggers put me in office. God never intended a 
nigger to vote, nor be voted for. His place is among the 
mules and oxen, because he is nothing but a two-legged 
brute, without soul or reason." 

There went up a tremendous shout as an approval of 
what the colonel said in reference to negroes. The can- 
didate rose and defended himself in a very neat little 
fifteen minutes' speech, but seemed to be at a loss what to 
say in defense of the negroes, or it appeared so to the writer, 
he was brought into a dilemma, where a choice had to be 
made between that of sacrificing the negroes' or the colonel's 
friendship. Thus the negro was offered upon the altar 
of peace. 

The writer was then called for, to make a speech, as a 
kind of go-between. 

But we shall not impose upon the reader with any more 
of the speech than the part referring to the colonel's asser- 
tion, that a negro had no "soul or reason." 

Said the writer, at the close of a thirty minutes' speech, 

"Colonel has stepped upon dangerous ground, 

and unless his feet are stayed upon the authority of God 
and a clear conscience, we shall see him go down. He ar- 
raigns the negro before you as a brute without a soul. I 
understand that this state has a law which prohibits a man 
from cohabitating with a brute, which is a penitentiary 
offence. 

" This being true, I condemn Colonel — as being a 
gross violater of that law and claim that he should be in 

.343 



MAUDELLE. 



prison at hard labor, for it is known by everyone present 
that he has cohabited with a negro woman for more than 
twenty years, by whom he has fathered three children, 
Mary, John and David, whom you all know as well as I 
do." 

The building shook with wild applause. The colonel 
sprang to his feet with a drawn pistol, cursing and ranting, 
and, no doubt, would have shot the writer, but for the dis- 
play of a large number of pistols, by friends of the writer, 
holding him at bay. 

His friends got around him and held a close caucus 
for a few minutes ; some plan w r as agreed on w T hich seemed 
to satisfy the colonel for the time. The writer was 
advised by friends not to stay in town that night. 

As the sun crept slowly down behind the tall swamp trees, 
which cast their long, lank shadows across the road and 
away out into the clearing, like ragged, black patches on 
the earth, and the evening began to put on its dark shroud 
of mourning, and while the town folk were at supper, the 
writer made that his chance to get out of town unobserved. 

He ordered his horse, mounted it and loped away home- 
ward. A quarter of a mile from town, and before entering 
the thick woods, the horse stopped as abruptly as though 
encountering a stone wall. He threw his ears forward, 
blew, pawed the earth, wheeled about and ran back to 
town — stopped, looked back and blew a long, wild blast. 

The writer turned and went back. The horse did the 
same thing three or four times. All the coaxing did no 
good. He would stop, tremble, and raise his foot, as though 
trying to force himself to obey, then, as though something 
started at him, he would wheel, blow, and run for life. 

It was not yet dark. The road was broad and open, 
without stump or bush to deceive the animal. Three 
other friends were on their horses and ready to start home 
in another direction, They had noted the action of my 



349 



MAUDELLE. 



horse and put their version on it in this way, that the horse 
saw an apparition, and it was a warning to me of danger. 
These friends decided to go my way, although it would 
throw them fully twenty miles out of their way. 

Each man had his big, navy six-shooter, which they took 
from their cases and carried in their hands, ready for ac- 
tion. I rode a few paces in front, and expected the horse 
to repeat his behavior, but nothing of the kind happened. 
A quarter of a mile into the swamp, as we turned a bend in 
the road, which led down a hill and which brought the 
horses to a walk in descending, behind a clump of wild 

grapevines, stood Colonel and three others with 

guns. But on seeing themselves evenly matched, the 
Colonel could do nothing but curse the writer with the 
foulest language that ever escaped human lips, and ended 
with the threat, "I will get you yet as sure as h — 

Between twelve and one o'clock that night, from a negro 
hut in the edge of the same town, a cry of death broke the 
hush of the night, while a negro was hurled into eternity, 
by a mob for the offense of opposing the same men in the 
election. The body of the negro was left lying in the public 
street, where the hogs stripped the bones of its flesh by the 
next morning. 

At no time in the history of the South was there 
such restless, intense excitement among negroes, as 
there was between 1875 and 1877, in one particular state 
especially. 

This period was known as the Kansas Exodus. More 
properly it should have taken its name from the state in which 
the uprising and movement to Kansas was organized. How- 
ever, in order to protect the people of the state, we will 
withhold the name of the state, because of some atrocious, 
bloody scenes to be uncovered, such as may seem to be in- 
credible, yet they are absolutely true; and names, places 
and data can be given, as the writer went into the state at 



;vf AUDfiLLE, 



the time, especially to take note of the disturbance. We 
do not intend to mention any of the hundreds of cases re- 
ported to us by Maudelle and others, but only those which 
came in some way under our personal observation. 

The great movement westward by the negroes was 
brought on by the whites, who seemed to feel justified in 
resorting to the most inhuman cruelty, to throw off what 
was known as negro domination. 

Although they had assumed control of the stated affairs, 
yet they seemed to feel insecure in their position, as long as 
the negroes had the free use of the ballot. It was not 
enough to surround voting places with shot guns on elec- 
tion occasions, but tens of thousands of negroes were forced 
to vote the Democratic ticket, under penalty of speedy death 
to those who made any protest. 

The whites had a well-organized system, with commit- 
tees appointed for every district in the black belt of the 
state. Each committeeman was furnished with a blank 
book, in which the name of every voting negro was inserted, 
with obligations w r hich bound the negro to vote the Demo- 
cratic ticket, without a scratch. 

Those who subscribed to the obligations made a mark 
(x) or wrote his name opposite his name in the book. He 
was a "good nigger", and should be allowed to live, but the 
one who refused to sign, was doomed to die, and through 
his name a black line was drawn. 

In one of the inland towns of the state of perhaps fifteen 
hundred souls, was the slaughter pen of many negroes, 
three scenes of which we will portray just as we knew them 
to be. 

In the outer limits of the tow r n, there stood a neat little 
cottage, facing, and perhaps thirty feet from the main or 
center street, leading to and from the town. The month 
was May, the year 1877, the day of the week, Sunday, the 
hour, eleven thirty at night. 



35* 



MAUDELLE. 



The writer, two ladies and a gentleman, sat on the front 
gallery, shaded by a prolific growth of morning glories and 
honeysuckle, which protected us from the brilliant rays 
of the moon, that poured down from a cloudless sky, as 
well as shielded us from the view of those passing. 

We heard a dull, thudding noise approaching nearer and 
more distinct, until we felt the vibrations of the steady 
tramp of horses, only a hundred yards away. No one of 
us asked the other w 7 hat it was, nor did anyone of the party 
dare to go to the street to see the cause, but sat motionless 
and scarcely breathing. We soon recognized it as the 
tramping of a hundred or more horses draped in black 
shrouds, w T hich hung within a few inches of the ground 
and left no part of the horse exposed except the eye, which 
looked through the headpiece of the shroud. The riders 
were also covered with the hideous gearing of disguise. 

Between the two horsemen who led the w r ay was a man, 
about w T hose neck a rope was tied, the tw r o ends of which 
were held by the two horsemen on each side of him. The 
man had nothing on but his drawers and undershirt, and 
his hands were tied behind him, which threw his body into 
a stooping position, as he walked on without a word or a 
moan. 

We knew what it meant, and when the murderous mob 
had passed, men and women gave themselves up to tears 
and prayers for the poor victim. "That," said the man, 
"is brother Bell. He was threatened a week ago with death 
unless he should call the negroes together and advise thern 
to vote and act with the white people. But he told them, 
he would rather go to God with the truth than save his 
life with a lie. Brother Bell said in his sermon this after- 
noon, that he felt sure he was preaching his own funeral. 
It was the most powerful sermon I ever heard him preach." 

A half mile from town, in the edge of the swamp, the 
mob halted, dismounted, and prepared to execute the 

352 



MAUBELLE. 



victim. Bell was given five minutes to pray. He prayed, 
not for himself — that had been done before— but he prayed 
for his murderers and for his people, who, he said, many 
would be brought to end their lives in the same manner. 

One of the white men present told this story a year after- 
ward. Said he, " The prayer made by Bell was so unselfish, 
so touching and earnest, that the leaves on the ground be- 
gan creeping under our feet like things of life. I begged 
for BelFs life to be spared, but in vain. Then I said, 'men, 
I for one shall have nothing to do with killing this man.' 
Then I walked away, mounted my horse, and went home/* 

For forty-eight hours, the body hung by the neck in a 
state of decomposition, until one of the rich planters, ordered 
negroes to take it down. 

Two weeks after that, one of the murderers who lived on 
the bank of the river in the neighborhood, was attacked 
with swamp fever, and at its crisis, leaped from his bed 
and ran to the river, crying " Go away, Bell, don't kill me." 
He plunged into the river, was drowned, and the body 
never was found. 

The negro who had dogged Bell from day to day, and 
reported every word to the enemy, got drunk to hush his 
conscience, lay down on the roadside, and was torn and 
nearly eaten up by hogs, so that he lived and suffered twelve 
hours, and in the meantime made full confession of all his 
treachery toward Bell. 

Two days after Bell was hung, another prominent negro, 
whose last name was Hill, met his death in a horrible man- 
ner. Hill was a prominent man of extensive influence 
among his people. He was a barber by trade, and had es- 
tablished a business especially for whites. His residence 
was in the thickly-settled part of the town, and he had ap- 
propriated the front room for his shop. The front gallery, 
gained by two steps, lay along the sidewalk, with no space 
or yard between. 



353 



Hill had been waited upon by the committee, who in- 
sisted on his signing the political class book. " Gentle- 
men," said Hill, "you have known me from childhood, 
you know my political faith, and, were I to sign my name 
and promise to vote your ticket, it would be a lie. How- 
ever, I will do this, not vote any ticket, nor will I advise 
anyone to vote against you." 

"This will not do," said the committee, "you have 
great influence among the niggers, and they will follow 
your example. You must come out and vote and work 
with us." 

"I cannot do that, gentlemen," said Hill. 

"Then, by G — ! you will be a dead nigger before you 
know it." They walked off smarting under the repulse. 

Two days after that, about four o'clock in the afternoon, 
Hill was sitting on the front gallery of his shop. He saw 
two men coming down the street toward him with guns on 
their shoulders, game pouches, and with dogs following 
them, which gave them the appearance of hunters and kept 
them from attracting any particular attention. When they 
came opposite Hill, they stopped, faced him, and, without 
a word, poured two loads of shot into his body, and walked 
on without showing the least excitement or concern. HilPs 
wife and mother heard the shots and the outcry of Hill, 
"O God! I am killed," said he. They lifted him in their 
arms, took him into the house, laid him on the bed, and 
his wife ran out to hunt a doctor. As she was passing the 
two assassins they stopped her. 

"Where are you going?" said they. 

"For a doctor for my husband," she answered. 

"Isn't that nigger dead?" said they, at the same time 
wheeling about with an oath. "We will doctor him." 
HilPs wife ran back, knelt in the door, and prayed to the 
assassins not to do him any further injury. They kicked 
her aside, entered the bed-room, threw HilPs mother away 



354 



MAUDELLE. 



from the wounded man's bed, placed a gun at his head 
and tore the head away from the body, bespattering the 
walls with blood and brains. 

The writer and a great number of others visited the house 
the next day. 

It may appear to the reader that it was rather dangerous 
to go to those scenes of murder, but that was just the thing 
the whites wanted the negroes to do, in order to strike them 
with a panic and cower them into servile submission. 
Thus negroes were told to go to see how bad niggers were 
treated. 

On the same day Hill was killed, in the middle of the 
night, four negroes were hanged to one limb of a tree in the 
courthouse yard. It was said their offense was breaking 
into a store, but no definite information could be had, so 
we will not attempt the recital of a tragedy, that is uncer- 
tain in its facts. 

On several occasions, the writer was spied by the negro 
watch dog, but he understood their treachery and was 
always on guard. "He was a doctor, a specialist," and that 
is all they got. Yet whenever public inquiry became too 
frequent, he generally moved on. 

Forty-eight hours after the assassination of Hill, the 
writer had gone twenty- two miles from that town to the 
country, where excitement had been raised to white heat. 
A great many negroes had been severely beaten, while 
several were killed and hundreds of others were hiding in 
the swamps as a means of safety. 

There was a trustworthy man who went with the writer 
on this occasion. 

We stopped at a little hut on the banks of the Red River. 
The proprietor of the hut was a sharp, cunning, old 
negro, seventy-five or eighty years old. He always spoke 
in an undertone and his voice dropped to mere whispers, 
while his little, weasen eyes, were continually sweeping 



S55 



MATJDELLE. 



around the room, and he would very often go to the door 
and peer out into the darkness, as though expecting an 
attack. 

No attorney-at-law was ever more astute in squeezing 
a witness for information than was that old man in his ef- 
fort to pump us dry of every thought which had any bearing 
on the political rupture between the two races. But to 
our advantage we had read Shakespeare, and had profited 
by the character in Richard III., who was sent as a messen- 
ger to lie, and was particularly cautioned not to overdo the 
thing. 

In his effort to impress us with his trustworthiness and 
fidelity to his race, the old negro uncovered himself, and 
put us on guard. (Williams was his name). 

It was long after twelve o'clock that night before we took 
the bed assigned to us in one corner of the same room in 
which the old man slept, and even then we kept a vigilant 
eye on him during the night. In fact, the writer never put 
in a more restless night, owing to his close proximity to a 
big snake, which he had seen let itself down from the roof 
of the hut, and drink from a water bucket, which sat on a 
shelf attached to the hut. The writer cried, " Snake, 
snake !" It drew itself up into the old, rotten stave roof, 
and stayed there secure. To the writer a tiger would have 
been more welcome than that nasty, greasy-looking, wrig- 
gling snake. 

At break of day, the old man was up and out somewhere, 
and we were up also and ready to be off. But before we 
got away, a vicious -looking white man, riding a very large 
horse, appeared at the gate, kicked it open, rode up within 
three feet of the writer, drew a navy six, flourished it over 
his head, and cried out, "By G — ! I want you to leave here 
forthwith, right away." His manner of putting his com- 
mand, "forthwith, right away," evoked a smile from the 
writer, although in the face of imminent death. No doubt 



356 



MAUDELLE. 



the man would have shot the writer, but for the fact there 
were two of us to deal with, and the writer's friend was less 
than a dozen feet off, sitting within reach of a shot gun. 
The man wheeled about, and galloped off, threatening 
something we did not distinctly hear, yet we knew the 
meaning, which was to bring reinforcement. We hurriedly 
put our horse to the buggy and made off in a direction op- 
posite to that which we had told the old negro, the night 
before, we were going. 

We were told by persons who had also suffered, that the 
old negro was the most cold-blooded and treacherous man 
in that neighborhood, and that the white man's father had 
been killed some time before, in the tracks where his son 
stood on the morning he came to kill us, and, strange to say, 
it was exactly for the same offence stopping over night at 
the negro's hut, which was on the white man's plantation. 

To give the reader another idea of the feeling of the 
whites against the blacks, I will relate the following inci- 
dent: — 

On the same afterncon that we reached the hut of Wil- 
liams, the wTiter went down to the river, where wood was 
being hauled and corded on the bank, to be sold to man- 
agers of the steamboats which traversed the river. The 
day was extremely hot. Among the several teams one was 
za ox team. It is the nature of a thirsty ox to have water 
at any cost, when he sees it. 

The man who drove the team, sat upon his load of wood, 
flourishing a long whip, talking to, and calling each ox by 
name, to which they responded by swaying right and left 
and quickening their steps. The team was slowly but 
surely, drawing a cord of wood, while their frothy tongues 
hung from their open mouths, and their flabby sides rose 
and fell like a smith's bellows. 

When the river was reached and they caught sight of the 
water, they dashed down the embankment to the river, 



MAUDETXE. 



which stood twenty-five or thirty feet, almost perpendicular, 
above the water. Oxen, wagon, wood and driver plunged 
into the river and all disappeared for several seconds. 
Then the wood rose to the surface, and floated down stream. 
Next the oxen came up and struck out, swimming for the 
opposite shore, dragging the submerged wagon. Then the 
driver rose from the eddying water, wailing for help. The 
other negro teamsters made a dash to his rescue, but the 
white boss stopped them with this cold, heartless remark: 
4 i Attend to your work. If the damn nigger cannot save, 
himself, let him go to hell" The man sank, and in a 
minute more, further down the river, was seen only his 
hand rising above the surface of the water, and clutching 
rapidly and violently at nothing — it slowly sank and never 
w r as seen again. 

Our next stopping place lay forty-five miles east of the 
Red River, on what w r as known as the Jones Plantation — 
we mention the name because of its little scrap of history. 
Our travel was rather slow owing to the Red River bottom 
mud, for a dozen or more miles. Then came the steep hills 
and sand, after we left the bottom, until we dropped again 
to the level bottom lands of the river, whose name is with- 
held for the reason it would give the reader our geographical 
status, and thus we would unintentionally damage the name 
of the state. 

Of the forty-five miles, only thirty had been covered, 
when the sun left us in the swamp. Having long before 
learned to accommodate ourselves to circumstances, we 
turned off the road, drove a mile or more into the swamp, 
selected a dry place, raked up a big, circular, bank of leaves, 
fifty or more feet in diameter, put the horse, buggy, etc., in- 
side the circle, fed the horse, ate our lunch, and raked up 
leaves for our bed. With our double-barreled shot gun 
heavily charged with buck shot, and a box of matches, and 
the gun between us, we lay down. Perhaps the reader will 



35» 



MAUDELLE. 



ask why such preparations? We have anticipated the 
question, and will give the answer for the benefit of anyone 
who may be caught out under similar circumstances. 

The swamp was infested with bears, wolves, wild cats, 
and catamounts. Should these animals come to attack 
us, the horse would blow violently, which would wake 
us. The circle of leaves would be fired, and we would 
shoot from the center, as w T ild animals will not come too 
near fire, we would be comparatively safe in our leafy 
fortification. 

Sure enough, late in the night, the horse gave a violent 
blow T , we rose, lit a fat pine faggot, which my friend held 
above his head, while I, gun in hand, peered out into 
the darkness for eyes of wild animals, which a light will 
reflect. 

We swept around and around the circle and saw nothing, 
but distinctly heard a walking through the leaves. We 
cried, "Halt! if you value your life." We said this for fear 
it might be some person merely passing, that way. The 
thing stopped for a minute only, and then came forward. 
I raised the gun, my friend cried again, "Halt!" It came 
on toward us. I sent a load of buckshot in its direction. 
A hog squealed, and we heard a violent kicking in the 
leaves, and we knew but too well that the ever present hog 
was done for. Nothing more disturbed us that night, 
except spiders, bugs and toads, which insisted on creep- 
ing over us, object as we might. 

Next morning we rose early, fed, lunched, harnessed up 
and set out to make the fifteen miles, the balance of the forty- 
five to the Jones Plantation. The road was hard and level, 
and while the morning was cool, our horse wheeled us along 
at a brisk gate, without seeming effort. By ten o'clock we 
had reached the front, or South boundary of the planta- 
tion, but still five miles from our destination. Those who 
never saw a large, Southern plantation, might be excused 



MAUDELLE. 



for calling it a town owned by one man. Such was the 
great house and out-buildings of the Jones estate, but now T 
abandoned for the past ten or twelve years. 

The plantation comprised thirty-five thousand acres, 
which is said to have carried a working force of a thousand 
or more men and women. While I cannot vouch for that 
statement, the stables, negro quarters, corn cribs, cotton 
gins, old plows and vast number of farm-implements seem 
to warrant the belief. 

The great house, or Jones residence, sat back from the 
main road at the rear end of a ten-acre lawn shaded by very 
large water oaks, which stood as sentinels on each side of 
a roadway with interlocked branches, twenty-five or thirty 
feet overhead. 

The house was a two-story building, but from a dis- 
tance had the appearance of but one, owing to the fiat roof 
and the wide extent of ground it covered. A twenty-foot 
hall ran all the way through the center of the first floor, 
w T hich divided it into two parts. 

The hall joined flush w T ith a back gallery only half so 
wide, and which ran along parallel with three one-story 
spacious rooms, perhaps dining, sitting and nursery rooms. 
This gallery butted against a kitchen, which formed an ell 
to the three rooms. 

The ornamentation of the galleries and rooms showed 
that the owner had decidedly more money than artistic 
taste. Such of the wood carving and turned wood as could 
be seen through the wear and decay of time, was out of 
harmony w T ith other embellishments of the rooms. The 
kitchen seemed to be treated as well as the parlors. The 
entire structure was fast falling into decay, The roof 
had caved in, allowing the rain to pour down through the 
floors and ceiling. The walls had fallen out of line and 
careened over, threatening to collapse. The openings 
had neither shutters nor sashes, which gave a free entrance 



MAUDELLE, 



and exit to bats and owls. Grass, weeds, briers, and vines 
had enveloped the first story and hung inside the openings. 

The house had the reputation of being haunted, and we 
were warned not to enter it, but our mission was not to 
reckon with the dead, but rather the living, so we went in. 
The fact is, the mansion was much too gloomy and repul- 
sive for the habitation of a decent spirit. In the second 
story front window, looking toward the main road, was a 
human skull, with a great number of bones (lower animal), 
suspended from the ceiling. Almost every night in the week 
lights burned in the rooms. 

After going into the house we at once discovered the 
meaning of all this. It was the headquarters for the Ku 
Klux, and the bones, etc., were to strike terror into the 
negroes. We counted fifty-four slave quarters, which 
flanked the right and left, along the outer limits of the lawn, 
and bore away toward the main road, horse ; hoe in form. 
Many of these huts had rotted and gone down in a pile, 
through which lizards and snakes gamboled. A whipping 
post was planted in the earth on one side of the lawn, at 
which a number of slaves had died under the lash, and near 
which a young master had been brained by a desperate 
slave who would not be whipped, so we were told by neigh- 
bors. 

There was a great number of negro quarters and houses 
for overseers, and horse-power gins, sheds, stables, etc., 
at intervals of a mile or so on the plantation. 

Two of the Jones sons were killed in the Civil War. 
The senior Jones and wife died soon after in New Orleans, 
and the last surviving daughter is insane in the same 
city. 

We left the old mansion, and drove through the planta- 
tion, a distance of six miles from boundary to boundary, the 
shortest way. A quarter of a mile beyond the plantation, 
at the neat home of a prosperous farmer, was to be our 

361 



MAUDELLE. 



stopping place for a week or more. Notwithstanding the 
neighborhood was wild with excitement, Mr. Davis r our 
proprietor, was at ease, from the fact that he was not 
antagonizing the whites, in any way, but rather fell in line 
with their notions as a means of self-preservation. 

Taking into account his well-stocked farm, comfortable 
home and growing family of seven children, we rather think 
his choice was wise. But for this, however, he did not have 
the confidence of his people, nor share the respect of those 
negroes who either ran or struck back. It is not to be under- 
stood that Mr. Davis lent any influence to the cruel treat- 
ment of the negroes in his neighborhood or elsewhere, but 
on the other hand, he had often gone before the whites, 
sought and obtained mercy for negroes who were marked 
for punishment. A friend or stranger under the roof of 
Mr. Davis was always safe from molestation. This was 
a promise made by the whites and faithfully kept. The 
farm of Mr. Davis lay between the Jones plantation and 
a vast swamp broken every few miles by negro huts and a 
clearing of a few acres, on which was grown a little corn, 
cotton and tobacco, in all merely enough to keep a family 
of two or three from starving to death. 

To the fate of one of these isolated families we shall now 
give space. After eleven o'clock at night, we were still up 
talking over the troublesome times. We were all startled 
by the rapid firing of guns, seemingly a half a mile back in 
the swamp. It was all over so quickly, we could not get 
the exact bearing. "Another negro sent into eternity, ,, 
said Mr. Davis. Presently we saw light springing up and 
faintly coloring the tall cypress trees and steadily increasing 
until the swamp seemed to be red-hot for a quarter of a 
mile in diameter. 

While we stood on the back gallery watching develop- 
ments, we saw something white coming hurriedly through 
the field of green cotton toward the house. Whether it 



MAUDELLE. 



was a man, ghost or devil, no one could tell, and before we 
had time for much conjecture, the object was in the yard, 
on the gallery — we stepped aside — into the house and under 
the bed it went. By this time we had discovered it was a 
woman in a nightgown. Mrs. Davis held a light under the 
bed. "Mary Hunley, what is the matter?" said she. 
The poor thing frightened into nervous insanity, made no 
answer, but crouched the closer in the corner with the dread 
of death depicted upon her face. 

She was the wife of a man whose last name was Hunley, 
and whose house was then on fire in the swamp. Hunley, 
like hundreds of others, had refused to sign the political 
class book; and that was the night of reckoning with Hunley 
and the Ku Klux. 

He had been threatened and was on the lookout. Have 
ing served as a soldier in the Federal army in the late war, 
lie knew how to prepare for an attack. He had already 
taken up planks in the floor, so as to have an opening for 
his wife to escape, should they come on him at night. He 
placed a large sheet-iron trunk on end in the centre of the 
room, opposite the door — the only one to the hut. The 
trunk was to serve as a breastwork. He charged his 'ouble- 
barreled shot gun with heavy charges of buck shot and 
waited for the attack. One, two, three nights passed with- 
out trouble, but on the night mentioned, between eleven 
and twelve o'clock, a hundred or more men seemed to have 
come up out of the earth like seven-year locusts. Hunley 
and his wife crept out of bed, she in readiness to go through 
the floor and off, as soon as the mob gathered about the door. 
Hunley with the gun in his hand took his position behind 
the trunk. They came to the door, called and rapped on 
the door. Hunley answered, feigning to be half aroused. 
"Open the door," said they. 

"O, no; gentlemen, I am sleepy and tired; come in the 
morning," said Hunley. 



3 6 3 



MAUDELLE 



At this they began to punch the door with poles. Mrs. 
Hunley went through the floor, crept from under the house 
and ran. When she was a hundred or more feet from the 
hut, they saw her and sent several loads of shot after her, 
wounding her slightly. Hence her coming to the house of 
Mr. Davis, as we have mentioned. 

The door w T as battered down and several shots were fired 
into the room. One of the two children in bed was hit. 
It screamed. "Lord, have mercy!" said Hunley. Sup- 
posing he was wounded, the mob cried, "Come in, boys, 
we have got him." There was a rush to the door. Hunley 
opened both barrels of his gun in their faces, and four or 
five men fell dead. He sprang to the door, leaped out over 
the dead men, and was gone before the mob recovered from 
the surprise of the unexpected retaliation and repulse. 
Failing to kill the father, they set fire to the house and burned 
his two children, while they screamed for help. 

The next morning the writer, his friend and Mr. Davis, 
went to the smoking ruins of Hunley's house, and with other 
friends gathered up the charred remains of the two chil- 
dren and buried them in the garden near by. 

There were several other colored men mobbed in that 
district at this time and afterwards, but as we were not near 
enough to see any of the parties concerned and have to 
trust only to statements of others, we shall pass them. 

We shall mention but one more case, which came almost 
directly under our observation, or, at least, enough of the 
details are known to us, to enable us to speak with truth- 
fulness. 

The victim in this case, whose last name was Sims, had 
an interesting history. Sims was the son of his master, 
was badly used, and grew up with a heart full of intense 
hatred for his father and white brothers and sisters. He 
had one half-brother, who was black. Sims was devoted 
to his mother, who was about the only friend he had in the 



364 



MAUDELLE. 



world. He was put in the field to work at six years of age. 
He was made to go without hat or clothes, except a short 
tow shirt reaching to his knees; in this way his color, which 
was nearly white, was changed to a copper color. He 
seldom went a day without a beating from some one of the 
white family, and each chastisement added another and 
another revengeful curse in his heart against his tormentors. 
He swore by the God of heaven to strike back as soon as 
he had reached manhood. That time came in his twenty- 
second year. He had prepared himself for such an attack. 
With the assistance of his mother, he had saved four or five 
hundred dollars for the purpose of running away after re- 
taliating, when it came to that. As "all things come to those 
who wait," the opportunity came to Sims. 

His young master and half-brother, threatened to whip 
him for some trivial offense. Sims politely explained to 
him that he was a man ; he had been beat and kicked about 
like a dog, and had given his service all his life for nothing; 
and if they regarded him as a brute, he was half human, 
at least, since he and the young master were sons of the 
same father. The young master went wild with anger, 
ran to the house and told his father. The two returned 
with ropes, whip and gun. Sims was ordered to cross his 
hands. He did so. But just as soon as they were in reach 
of him, he grabbed the gun, and, with a powerful swing, 
felled the young master to the ground, crushing his skull. 
He sprang upon the old man, threw him to the ground, 
gagged him, tied him hand and foot, went to the house took 
the blood hounds and made off. 

The hounds protected him in two ways. First, it would be 
many hours before matters would come to light on the plan- 
tation. It would also be hours before other dogs could be 
secured and put on his track, which would give him a day's 
start. Second, his having the dogs and gun gave satisfac- 
tory coloring to the story he told those he met, that he was 



3^5 



MAUDELLE 



chasing a runaway negro. After he had safely crossed the 
Ohio River, and had proceeded some distance into Illinois, 
he sold the dogs for first-class fox hounds. He made his 
way to Canada, where he remained from 1855 to 1877, 
when he returned to his old home in search of his mother, 
who had died two years before. His brother still lived 
only a few miles from the old homestead, but had the rep- 
utation of being so mean and treacherous, that Sims did not 
make himself known to him. Sims' appearance had under- 
gone such a vast change that no" one knew him. He had 
not only educated himself and was polished, but twenty- 
two years in a cold climate had bleached him to almost pure 
white. He had also changed his name, and thus his iden- 
tity was securely concealed. 

Unfortunately, Sims took to politics, ran for office, and 
was elected sheriff. The whites resolved never to be ar- 
rested by a nigger sheriff. He gave them to understand, 
that the only way to avoid arrest was to commit no crime 
within his jurisdiction. Two months after his election, 
a negro was brought to court for the crime of arson. A 
mob gathered at the jail to lynch him. Sims and his dep 
uties met the mob and warned them of their danger, should 
they attempt to break into the jail. They were held at 
bay for a while, and then with an impatient, mad rush 
they came on. Sims and his men opened fire. Three 
men were wounded. The mob retreated. The negro 
was given trial, convicted and sent to the penitentiary. 
Sims knew very well a worse end was yet to come to him, 
if the mob got the opportunity, thus he was kept continually 
on the lookout. Several weeks passed, however, without 
trouble, and Sims began to feel easy. One morning he 
found a coffin on his doorstep, with the usual sign of a skull 
and cross bones marked on it, and an inscription in these 
words: " Nigger, get up and get out of this state within 
twenty-four hours, or you will be a d — dead nigger." 



366 



MAUDELLE. 



Sims split the coffin to pieces, and threw it into the road. 
He made preparations to meet the mob. He dug a trench 
from under his house, leading off thirty or forty feet, large 
enough to crawl through. He covered the trench with 
planks, which in turn he covered with earth and grass, so 
no sign of his underground passage appeared. It was 
his intention to fight the mob, until they set the house on 
fire, when he would go through the floor into the under- 
ground passage and come out thirty or forty feet from there, 
at the lower end of the trench. But, unfortunately, the 
treacherous negro watch dog had kept all his movements 
shadowed, and reported them to the leaders of the mob. 

The second night after the notice, the mob appeared 
at his house, one hundred strong. They knew they had a 
fighter to deal with, so they proceeded with caution. They 
came to the gate and called, but got no response. They 
threw rocks against the door, but no answer came from the 
house. They doubted his being in the house, notwithstand- 
ing the negro traitor assured them, he had seen him go in, 
put out the light and never come out. 

The negro led a dozen armed men to the exit of the trench, 
while others began breaking dow r n the door. When it fell, 
Sims opened fire on the mob, with what effect was never 
known. He then made his way into the trench, and, as 
he emerged from its lower end, was shot down. The mob 
mounted their horses and rode off. When they were two 
or three hundred yards from the tragic scene, the negro 
suggested that it would be advisable for him to go back 
and see whether or not Sims was dead. Said he, "You 
know, gemmen, it takes lots o' shooten to kill a nigger," 
This said, he went back to where Sims lay on the ground 
dying. The negro flashed the light of the lantern in his 
face. Sims opened his eyes. "Ah! I thought so; dis will 
settle wid you," said the traitor, as he placed a navy six- 
shooter at the dying man's head. 



367 



MAUDELLE. 



" Don't kill me, Bob; I am your brother Charlie," said 
Sims. "Look on my breast, and you will see a birthmark 
by which you will know me," continued he. Bob tore the 
shirt from the bosom of the dying man, and sure enough 
the familiar mark told him that they were the children of 
the same devoted mother, whose last breath on her 
death-bed was spent in prayer for the return of her absent 
boy. 

Bob tenderly raised his gasping brother in his arms, and 
rent the midnight air with pitiful wailing. 

Such were the suffering, wailing and reign of terror in 
that particular state, that at one time there were more than 
thirty thousand negro men, women and children huddled 
together, living in swamps and on the Mississippi River 
banks, waiting for boats bound up river. As fast as boats 
touched the landings, they were at once filled to their 
utmost carrying capacity with negroes escaping to Kansas. 
The state was being so rapidly depopulated of its laborers, 
that the white planters found is necessary to guard boat 
landings with shot guns, and to forbid captains taking 
negro passengers. But the cutting off of this outlet did 
not discourage the exodus; they left the river and swamps 
by thousands to tramp the hundreds of miles across the 
country. The whites followed them and inflicted upon 
them cruelties unsurpassed by savages. 

The writer saw plantations comprising from five hundred 
to as many as a thousand or more acres of land without a 
laborer on them, except here and there one or two negro 
couples too old to travel, and of no service at home. 

Further back in this chapter we had occasion to speak 
of the treachery to their race of a certain class of ne- 
groes. All we have said is true, and much more, for which 
we have no apology, but rather an explanation to make, 
which will take off the racial stigma, and place it where it 
more properly belongs. 



368 



MAUDELLE. 



Treachery is not a natural characteristic of the negro, 
but it has been acquired under coercive methods, against 
which he had no means of redress. Black men, like white 
men, are made to fit their environments, and, struggle as 
they may, it is the lucky few who rise above them. 

Sometimes it happens, that a strong swimmer may buf- 
fet the billows and make headway up stream, but ninety- 
eight out of a hundred will be swept to a common level. 
The slave's jurisdiction either in mind or action, circled 
within a radius of his master's will; thus he had the freedom 
neither of locomotion nor decision, except by delegation 
from his owner. 

The owner of slaves took the advantage of anything and 
everything which promised to insure his human property 
for him, against the least chance of loss. This was done 
in several ways, one of which, and only one, we shall men- 
tion, especially because it leads directly to the cause of negro 
treachery. 

On every plantation and in every household, there was 
one or more negro men or women trusties, whose business, 
it was to watch every movement of his fellow-bondsmen 
and to report everything he heard or saw that was irregular. 
He was the more prized for his sleek, secretive, crafty vig- 
ilance in his detective work, for which he w T as often requited 
with some special favor, if nothing else than ''good nigger" 
and the negro, like a good dog, was willing to risk life and 
limb for a kind w T ord, or sacrifice his fellows to please his 
master, and establish his own security from the lash. As 
a means of self-preservation, the slaves became keen, sly 
and cunning, in order to elude the eye of the traitor, thus 
the watched and watcher cultivated about the same charac- 
teristics, which have come down through ten generations 
without a break in the racial line of transmission. Could 
any fair-minded person or persons, expect anything other 
than racial disloyalty under such compulsory training? 



369 



JVIAUDELLE. 



The negro by nature is the child of innocence, good-nature, 
open-hearted laughter and mirthfulness. He is hopeful, 
satisfied with a full meal at the close of each day, and will- 
ing to let tomorrow take care of itself, if it ever should come. 

He is patient, sympathetic and generous, to his own ruin. 
During the Civil War, the negro hut sheltered many Con- 
federate and Federal soldiers, with whom the last crust 
of bread was divided; then he guided them to safety, no 
one of them ever having been betrayed. 

So it is evident, that treachery, deceit, lying, and other 
immoral traits in the negro's nature are products of slavery, 
and they have been bred, and fostered by his forced sub- 
jugation to the white man's will. Had the negro come here 
from a civilized, or even a semi-civilized country, with a 
mind and character as much as half trained, then better 
traits of character might have been expected. But as it is, 
he is all, and no more than a true prototype of the white 
man's will, and a defection of his civilization. 

Coming from the wilds of Africa, as nature's children of 
absolute freedom, and being unwillingly pressed into service 
by the lash, the negro saw but one side of American civil- 
ization, as presented to him by his owner, and that side 
was greatly minimized, in order to weaken the mental power 
of the slave, and strengthen the authority of the master. 

In this relation of the one to the other, the master was 
the negro's object and ideal of veneration, if not adoration, 
at times ; he was the sole embodiment of all that was power- 
ful, all that was wise and great. He owned all and had the 
best of everything to eat, drink and wear. His fine hair 
and color bespoke his near relation to God, as he claimed, 
and the negro could conceive of a God only as he was pre- 
figured in the white man, somewhat exaggerated in size. 

In the dreams, visions and spiritual travels of the ignor- 
ant negro, he always pictured God as a "great, big white 
man with long hair." A tale of this kind told in some of 



37o 



MAUDELLE. 



the backwoods churches was a sufficient guarantee of a 
spiritual change and an embrace of religion, to admit one 
to full membership in the church. On the other hand, 
the devil was pictured as a big misshapen, cloven-footed, 
red-eyed black man, inhabiting a deep pit, with black, 
smoky walls. Thus the negro's color seemed to give him 
kinship w T ith the devil, and against his color he has set up 
a vigorous protest against God and nature, and is to-day 
using every suggested remedy to change it. Perhaps not 
exactly for the same reason did the slaves do it fifty years 
ago ; it is not now to get away from slavery, but it is now to 
get away from its effects and present condition, which slav- 
ery created and to which the color assigns them. 

But we are getting too far away from the principle on 
which we predicated our first proposition, that treachery 
was acquired by the environments of slavery. We assert 
that trustworthiness is really the basic principle of the negro's 
nature. This is made clear in the fact that hundreds of 
state convicts, known as trusties, who go where they please, 
night or day, on business for their keepers and themselves, 
return to prison and report for further duty. White men 
are never allowed such freedom, or, if they are, they do 
as did Noah's raven, never return. Thousands of white 
men who went to war, buried their money, and other val- 
uables as a means of safety against confiscation. They 
did not take their overseers, wives, sons nor daughters with 
them to the place of concealment of their money in the earth, 
etc., but the old, trusty slave, and those two, and no others, 
knew the secret; and in no case did the negro betray the 
trust. If the master never came back alive, the treasure 
was handed over to the one, or ones, designated by the 
master. The writer knows of one case, where an old negro 
was slowly tortured by soldiers, who tried to make him tell 
where his master buried his money. But the old negro died 
under the torture, with the secret still in his faithful breast, 



371 



MAUDELLE. 



But the negro could not do this for one of his own race, 
simply because faith and confidence in each other had never 
been developed. The schooling was exactly the reverse, 
it was supicion and distrust; and one negro measured the 
others by his own standard of feeling, and also gaged every 
negro he ever heard of by his own condition and oppor- 
tunity. It was impossible for the ignorant slave to believe 
that one of his race could know, under any circumstances, 
what his master knew, nor that he had any right to have 
the same comforts a white man had. 

Hence the negro's nature has been warped, twisted and 
distorted, and, even now, with a good number of years 
this side of slavery, we see the growth of confidence in racial 
ability remarkably slow. 

The negro doctors, lawyers, and men in business ven- 
tures are timidly patronized. Somehow one of the race 
does not feel safe in the hands of another, unless the pro- 
fessional man is vouched for by a white man. This is 
very unfortunate. A colored girl would sooner starve to 
death than hire out to nurse a colored child. The writer 
has lived in the South more than thirty years, 1 * and has never 
seen a colored nurse care for a colored child. The colored 
mother, North or South, will not buy a colored doll for her 
little girl, it is always a white one or none at all. Thus the 
colored mother, and first teacher of the child, is uncon- 
sciously grafting in its nature a permanent dislike for its 
kind and color, and deeply implanting instead of a rever- 
ence for the color of the other race, it is a morbid hatred. 
Again, these impressions of the colored race^are more than 
supplemented by the Sunday School papers and story 
books for small children, which come from the press of the 
whites, in which little Harry, Johnny, James, Mary, Myrtle , 
etc., who are made heroes and heroines of child-life per- 
fection, are always white, ^hich really means that there are 
no black children who are models of perfection. 



37* 



MAUDELLE. 



The cause of the disloyalty of negroes to each other 
might be discussed much further, but the conclusion would 
be the same — the cause and curse of slavery. 

But the last thing, and by far the worst thing, which can 
be said of the effects of human bondage, is the habit of 
some low, depraved negroes speculating on the chastity 
of their women. 

I know of cases where colored men have made it conven- 
ient to be away from home for the purpose of giving up their 
wives to satisfy the passion of some white man, to whom 
they were obligated for a favor. Also, there are a class of 
old, sneaking ex-slaves, negro men and women, who buy 
and sell the virtue and good name of every prepossessing 
colored girl within their reach, no matter how promising 
or prominent the girl may be, if she is wanted by a white 
man, an attempt will be made cunningly to entrap her, 
and offer her up to gratify brutal lust. If the better class 
of colored people would organize vigilant committees, 
or rise in one compact mass in a fearless crusade against 
these negro vultures, who are feasting on innocent, young 
negro virtue, and drive them from the community, it would 
raise the negro a thousand fold in the estimation and good 
opinion of the world. 

The white man w T ho negotiates to buy negro virtue for 
dollars and cents, is not one whit better than his negro agent, 
who consummates the trade. Both should be known/ . 
and both exposed to public gaze, that the immoral white 
man may share the odium with the immoral black man. 



373 




CHAPTER XXXI 

GOD AND MYSELF. 

While the writer was actively engaged in one part of 
the South, investigating and collecting data, Maudelle was 
in another part establishing schools and furnishing them 
with appliances and teachers. She had learned enough 
and seen enough of the fatal effects of ignorance, to satisfy 
her that the only feasible way out of the negro's present 
condition was through the school text book. 

Many thought the church could supply the want, but she 
contended that the schoolroom must supplement the ef- 
forts of the church. She knew that the negro could not be 
preached out of ignorance, prayed out of ignorance, fright- 
ened out of ignorance, nor mobbed out of ignorance, but he 
could, and must, think and work it out through books. But 
she knew also, there were many essential requisites necessary 
to secure an education, at least, three, among the many 
which could not be dispensed with, under any circumstances, 
where anything like promising results were expected. These 
elements are money, time and capacity of mind. 

Philanthropists may, and often do, furnish the money, 
which makes it possible for one to have the time, but nature 
only can give the important mind functions. " Fortunately 
for the negro," said Maudelle, "he is mad-hungry for in- 
formation. A school-building is no sooner completed, 
installed, and the doors thrown open, than it is filled with 
pupils panting for the start in the mental race. 

The negro's insatiable thirst for books was the best evi- 
dence that he would give a respectable account of himself 
at some point along the line of negro thinkers. 



374 



MAUDELLE. 



When ground, (twenty acres) had been bought, the plans 
had been matured, the contract let, and work begun on a 

large school building, in , the work was brought to a 

sudden stop by an unpleasant occurrence, whose facts are 
about as follows : — 

In the month of April, on a quiet Sunday night, between 
eight and nine o'clock, while the church-going people were 
happy under the spiritual influence of their respective ser- 
vices, the tapping of alarm bells gave notice of fire. The 
streets soon filled with anxious people, straining their eyes 
to catch a glimpse of the fire. Horses, with their usual 
wild, mad dash were jerking along the fire engine and hose 
and ladder truck, whose wheels jumped, bounded and re- 
bounded and flashed fire from their iron tires, as they spun 
away and disappeared in the darkness. Men and boys, 
who had caught sight of the lire and the spirit of the ex- 
citement, joined in the chase, many of whom were hatless, 
coatless, and shoeless, and some senseless. By this time 
there were signs of a big fire showing itself above the house- 
tops on, or near, the city limits. Those who had gone at the 
first alarm, were returning and spreading the sad news 
along their route of the burning of the N. C. Cotton Com- 
press and Cotton Seed Oil Mill. The two plants belonged 
to and were managed by one firm. The cotton seed oil 
department was a new enterprise for the South, and was 
highly appreciated by the planters, owing to the lucrative 
market it created for their cotton seed. There were hun- 
dreds of tons of seed, hundreds of bales of cotton, thousands 
of gallons of oil, a great quantity of cotton seed meal hulls, 
etc., together with buildings and machinery, aggregating 
in value to neiriy a half million dollars. The inflammable 
matter and the headway gained, before the engines arrived 
and began the fight, made the plant a total loss. 

The origin, or cause, of the fire was the next information 
eagerly sought, and, by the next morning, was supposed 



375 



MAUDELLE. 



to have been discovered. A week or ten days before, 
a negro lad of twenty years, or thereabout, had been 
discharged from the mill, and, not moving off of the 
premises as fast as the foreman desired, was severely 
kicked and roughly handled by that officer. As the 
boy left, he shouted out, "I will get even with you some 
day." The fire following so closely behind the threat 
seemed to establish the boy's guilt beyond a doubt, so 
much so, that further research or investigation for an- 
other cause was abandoned, and summary punishment 
for the boy was the only thing in the minds of an angry, 
excited populace. The boy was arrested and jailed to 
await the examination set for the next day. That he 
never would be brought to trial, was the general opinion 
of the colored people, but owing to the tone and tempera- 
ment of the whites, which were excited and intensely 
aggravated by the political aggression of both national 
parties, the colored men of prominence were not in position 
to interfere. 

Toward evening the town began to fill up with rough- 
looking men from the country, who stood about in small 
groups, earnestly discussing matters not known to the 
general public, yet no one, white or black, was so stupid as 
not to surmise what was being discussed. The colored 
people became alarmed and restless. When some friendly 
white man would suggest to the colored men that they should 
make an effort to save the boy, they invariably held up their 
hands and walked off. 

As Maudelle had shown so much interest in the colored 
people of that and other states, she was appealed to for ad- 
vice. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon, and what- 
ever was to be done for the boy, had to be done quickly. 
Eighteen or twenty of the most trustworthy colored men 
were called together in a private room, and Maudelle met 
them. 



376 



MAUDELLE. 



" Gentlemen, " said Maudelle, "I have given my advice 
in good faith to your people several times before this, and 
I have been betrayed by those I was trying to help. What 
I have done for the colored people, or may do in the future, 
is not for any favor or even their gratitude, yet I do expect 
those I help to be reasonably honest, and, above all, true to 
themselves and their friends who make sacrifices for them. 

"I am quite sure that the boy who is accused of arson 
has but few hours to live, unless some effectual work is 
done to save him. I want to explain my position, from 
which I will not vary a line. First, I must have proof pos- 
itive that he is innocent, before I will in any way interfere. 
I will not condone the crime of a guilty person, neither 
should you, except so far as sympathy goes for one so un- 
fortunately misguided. 

"What have you to say in regard to his guilt or inno- 
cence?" Everyone present testified that the boy "Sam," 
as they called him, had been at work five miles from the 
city, since the day following his discharge from the mill, 
that he came directly from the country to the church night 
school, and was there from seven P. M. until long after 
the fire. These and other facts established Sam's innocence 
beyond all doubt. 

A committee of five were appointed to wait upon the 
sheriff, lay the facts before him, and ask for protection until 
the boy could be brought to trial. The committee hurried 
off on their mission, while Maudelle and others waited im- 
patiently for the officer's reply. 

In less than an hour the committee returned with the 
information that the sheriff was so thoroughly convinced 
of the boy's guilt, that he gave no credence to the statement 
of the committee, but made use of the occasion to advise 
them thus: — said he, "The best thing for you niggers to do, 
is to behave yourselves. You can't fight the white people 
of this country, but, if you choose to take the advice of your 



377 



MAUDELLE £ 



Yankee friends, go ahead and try it. This is a white man's 
country, and niggers must keep in their place, if they expect 
to live here." 

After giving close attention to the report of the committee, 
Maudeile said, "What have you to suggest as the next best 
step?" 

No one made reply. 

"Will you let that innocent boy be dragged to the woods 
and slaughtered like an ox, without, at least, making an 
effort to save him ?" said she. 

No one answered. 

"I have a plan," said she, "a daring, desperate, and per- 
haps, dangerous plan, but it happens sometimes that the 
more reckless and daring one is, the less danger there is to 
life, because, if the aggressor shows an insane, careless dis- 
regard for his own life, when earnestly bent on a hazardous 
duty, it strikes the enemy with such amazement, he is dis- 
armed for the time. Or, in other words, the enemy seems 
to be hypnotized and rigidly transfixed in his tracks by the 
sudden stroke of the unexpected, I have in mind such a 
plan, which will require courage and quick work. How 
many men are there here who will follow me and stand at 
their post regardless of the outcome?" She rose to her feet 
and continuing, said, "Are there ten men who will take a 
firm stand with me to save that innocent boy?" Every- 
thing was silent. "Are there five brave men among these 
twenty?" No answer came. "Are there two?" Still no 
answer from those strong, sturdy negroes, whose eyes stared 
upon the floor with a keen sense of shame, which did not 
dare to meet the earnest, flashing eyes of Maudeile. "Is 
there but one man among you, who will take his stand with 
me ?" said she, in a voice tremulous with rebuke. No an- 
swer came. "Then go home," said she, "go home and to 
bed, for your silence sanctions the murder of your innocent 
brother, so far as you are concerned. 



378 



MAUDELLE. 



"Away men, to your places of safety, while I, with God 
and myself, will at least attempt the rescue of an innocent 
soul." This said, she left the room. 

It was now after sundown and getting dark. Men were 
hurrying about the streets with hats drawn down low over 
their faces. They met one another, whispered, nodded their 
heads meaningly and passed on. The places of business 
began closing much earlier than usual. Women and chil- 
dren were off the streets and were shut indoors for the night, 
while the town seemed to be abandoned to hundreds of 
grim, strange faces, on which murder was indelibly stamped. 

Within the next hour, Maudelle was seen in close con- 
versation with Col. Xelson, at his home, just out of the city 
limits. The plans, etc., explained by Maudelle are not 
fully known, but the outcome, at least, is suggestive. As 
the colonel rose to his feet, he was heard to say, " Little 
woman, I must acknowledge, that with my four years' service 
and experience in the army, your proposition is the most 
daring I have ever known. Yet I am going to stand by 
you, and, if you fail and the emergency comes, I will strike 
the blow of my life in your defence. Of course you will 
not know me from the others, when you come, but my life 
for it, I will be there and near you," said he, as he stepped 
out on the gallery and called Uncle Ben, the faithful, old 
ex-slave, who had been fifty years in the Nelson family. 
The colonel ordered his horse. "Miss Morroe," said he, 
"I will be back in thirty minutes." He leaped into the 
saddle and rode off. 

He returned exactly to the minute, gave Maudelle a pack- 
age and said, "You have thirty-five minutes to dress and 
be at the pike. Remember, don't fall in behind them too 
quick, keep at least a half a mile between you and them. 
If you should be detected and have to retreat, just give the 
reins to Bettie, and tell her what you want, and I assure you, 
with but her length's start, there is no horse in the state 



379 



MAUDELLE. 



that can overtake her. I have given Uncle Ben orders 
what to do, he is as prompt as clockwork, and everything 
will be ready for you to the minute. Good night, God be 
with you." This said, the colonel mounted his horse and 
galloped away toward town. 

At fifteen minutes to eleven o'clock, Uncle Ben reported 
to Maudelle that the mare Bettie was saddled and waiting 
at the side gate. "I am all ready," said she, as she stepped 
from the gallery wrapped in a black shroud, which covered 
her entire body as w^ell as head and face, with two holes 
cut opposite the eyes, through which to look. There was 
a three or four-inch slit cut opposite the mouth; around 
the eye and mouth openings, blood-red cloth was stitched, 
which gave the appearance of lips and eyelids, while be- 
tween the lips bits of white cloth were stitched and cut 
into the shape of long, large teeth. A piece of bright tin, 
three feet long by two inches wide, cut in the shape of a 
sword, was suspended from the waist. The headpiece of 
the shroud was elongated, back and front, which gave the 
appearance of a double-headed monster. 

"How do I look, Uncle Ben," said she. " Mighty scary 
madam," said the old man. She sprang into the saddle like 
a bird. Uncle Ben led the way round back of the house 
and through the plantation toward the public road, which 
ran back of the orchard, one quarter of a mile from the 
mansion. When within a few hundred feet of the road, 
and concealed among the fruit trees, Uncle Ben said, "We 
will wait here until they go by." 

In less than five minutes a great tramping of horses was 
heard, coming up the road from the city. "They are com- 
ing," whispered the negro, as a deep sigh shook his whole 
frame. A deep sigh from Maudelle involuntarily answered 
that of the old man, but perhaps it was not prompted by 
the same feeling, or, at least, by something more added. 
Uncle Ben felt a deep sympathy for an unfortunate victim, 



380 



MAUDELLE. 



whose life hung on the narrow margin of less than an hour 
of time. 

Maudelle felt her courage flagging, now that the mob 
was coming with the odds of a hundred to one against her. 
She began to doubt her ability to take the step which seemed 
to be beset with apparent, certain fatality. On came an 
almost silent, black mass of draped men and horses marching 
as compactly as possible. They passed within a few hun- 
dred feet of Maudelle and Uncle Ben, who were covered 
by the fruit trees. When they had gone up the pike, per- 
haps a half mile, Uncle Ben led the way to the pike, opened 
the big gate and Maudelle fell in behind them. " Don't 
forget the way back," said the old man. 

"No, I have it all straight before me. Good night," 
said she, as she disappeared in the darkness. 

Two miles out she came to the terminus of the pike, 
which branched into two roads, which bore away from each 
other right and left, at right angles. Somehow Colonel 
Nelson had forgotten to mention these two roads, one of 
which led to the swamp. She halted, meditated, 
strained her ear, leaped from the saddle and placed her 
head close to the ground, so as to catch the sound of the 
tramping of horses. But they had left the hard pike, and 
were travelling in sand, and the sound of the hoofs fell 
dead. 

She became restless, excited and disappointed, because 
she had not been better informed. "To stay here, is to 
lose all, to go, if even wrong, can be no worse," said she, 
as she sprang into the saddle and took the right-hand road, 
although the mare pulled to the other way. She let the 
mare out into a slow pace to make up for lost time. Going 
a mile or more, the road ended abruptly at a river, which 
convinced her that she had lost more than two and a half 
miles, which the little mare must recover in a few minutes, 
or the loss of a human life would be the result. 



MAUDELLE. 



She turned about, patted the little animal, on the neck 
and said, "Bettie it is all my mistake, I am sorry to impose 
such hard work upon you, but for God's sake, my little 
friend, take me to that spot where I am to save a human life ; 
can you do it?" She gave the word, "Go, Bettie!" The 
animal seemed to be inspired with human intelligence. 
She shook her head, squatted and bounded away with the 
swiftness of a spirit. She was a famous pacer, valued at 
thousands of dollars. Her motion was so easy, that one 
could conceive of her speed only by looking at the earth, 
which seemed to slip backward from under her feet. 

When the forks of the road had been regained, Maudelle 
expected the mare would turn homeward and so she tight- 
ened the reins to guide her into the left-hand branch, but, 
to her great surprise, Bettie shook her head, swept into the 
right road, and redoubled her efforts, and never slackened 
her speed until the swamp was reached. She came down 
to a slow gait at the entrance of the swamp, then stopped, 
gave a little snort, and threw her ears forward, and peered 
into the swamp. Looking in the same direction, Maudelle 
saw a dim light, a few hundred yards from the main road. 
She dismounted, tied the mare in the thick underbrush, 
gathered up her long shroud, and ran as fast as she could 
toward the light. When within fifty or more feet of the 
mob, she heard the victim pleading thus, "Gentlemen, 
for God's sake, please don't hang me. I really did not 
burn the compress. Just give me a chance and I will prove 
it." Then a strangling and gurgling in his throat was heard, 
as several strong men began to draw him up and the rope 
tightened about the neck. Like a supernatural apparition 
bursting from the earth, came Maudelle with a bound, 
into the midst of the mob, who fell back with their hands up, 
while she sprang to the victim, and with a keen-edged blade, 
cut the cords about his feet, and neck, and with a sharp, 
commanding voice, exclaimed, "Escape for your life." 



382 



MAUDELLE. 



At the same time she whirled about and disappeared as 
suddenly as she had come. The boy plunged into the 
thick brush and was gone. 

There stood a hundred men as though completely hyp- 
notized, and transfixed to the earth like bits at inanimate 
statuary, bereft of reason and physical strength. For 
more than a minute they stood thus dreaming, under the 
magic influence of Maudelle's daring deed, until the spell 
was broken by someone crying, " Shoot, shoot! the nigger's 
gone." A hundred guns were emptied in the direction of 
the fleeing negro, but it was too late, for he was beyond the 
reach of shot. 

The next thought was to capture his liberator. Each 
man sprang to his horse, mounted, emerged from the swamp 
and turned into the road, just when Maudelle did, not more 
than a dozen yards ahead of them. By a miscalculation, 
she missed the place where she had left the mare, and 
thereby lost several minutes in finding her and getting out 
of the brush. To her consternation, as she turned into 
the road, a man on a very large horse dashed up to within 
a few feet of her, and made a desperate grab for her. She 
quickly bent forward and cried to the mare to go. 

"It is your friend Nelson," said the man in an undertone. 
"Let your mare out into a run," said he, at the same time 
letting his whip fall on the mare's rump. She leaped into 
the air and went away like a wounded stag. 

Maudelle looked back, the road was black with horses in 
mad chase, while their riders were laying on the lash and 
urging them on. For a half a mile or so, the race of the 
pursued and pursuers seemed to be about even. Maudelle 
knew from the way men slashed their horses, that there was 
no more reserved speed in them, that it was all out. She 
did not know about her little animal, but decided to urge her 
on and give her a chance to maintain the reputation her 
master had given her, 



3S3 



MAUDELLE. 



She brought her hand down on the back of the mare and 
said sharply, "Go on, Bettie." The mare gave a grunt, 
threw her head down between her knees, dropped lower 
toward the earth and beat the ground so rapidly with her 
little hoofs that it would have been impossible to count 
the strokes. Maudelle looked back over her shoulder, 
and saw the distance between her and her enemies 
begin to widen more and more, until they were lost in 
the distance and, finally, could not even be heard. 
Maudelle checked up her animal and put her in a gentle 
pace. 

Five miles from the scene in the swamp brought her 
back to the Nelson plantation. She turned from the main 
road, as previously directed, and went up along the outside 
fence, for several hundred yards, to where a panel of the 
fence was laid down, at which Uncle Ben sat anxiously 
waiting. "Is that you, Uncle Ben?" said Maudelle, as 
she approached the figure of a man. 

"It is me, mam," said the old man, as he carefully 
led the mare through the opening in the fence, replaced 
the rails and led the way through the seeming world 
of a plantation. Maudelle knew that the old man was 
anxious to hear from Sam, but was too modest to ask, 
so she said "I suppose you would like to hear from 
Sam?" 

"Indeed I do, mam," said he. 

"Sam is free, if he will keep going until he is out of the 
South." 

"Thank the Lord, thank the good Lord, and you, too, 
Miss Maudelle!" said the old man. 

"You should thank Bettie also, Uncle Ben," said she, 
laughingly. 

"Did Bettie do all right?" inquired the old man. 
"Yes," said she, "Bettie is the most easy-going and the 
fastest animal I ever rode." 



384 



MAUDELLE. 



"O! she can go when she will. But sometimes she gits 
kind o' lazy, like folks, and wants things to go her way," 
said Uncle Ben. 

By this time could be heard the tramping of horses' feet 
on the hard pike, a quarter of a mile off from where Maudelle 
rode leisurely along in a walk, inside the Nelson plantation. 

When Maudelle reached the Nelson mansion, she found 
Colonel Nelson there, waiting for her at the gate. As he 
lifted her from the animal's back, he said, " Little girl, you 
are a first-rank heroine. I feared," continued he, "that 
when you did not appear earlier on the scene, your courage 
had failed, and that you had dropped out." Maudelle 
explained how she had missed the way, and how hard she 
had ridden to make up the time. " All my fault, my stu- 
pidity, not to think of the two roads, when directing you how 
to find the swamp. Had you been two seconds later, they 
would have had him hung up beyond your reach," said the 
Colonel, with a show of excitement at the narrow margin 
by which the boy's life was saved. 

Maudelle put two dollars in Uncle Ben's hand, bade him 
good night, or rather morning, and went to her boarding 
place, (Major Warne's), accompanied by Colonel Nelson. 
Major Warne was also in the rescuing plot, had got home, 
and was stitting on the gallery, waiting to congratulate 
Maudelle on the success of her peerless adventure. 

It would be mean ingratitude to close this part of the 
story, without acknowledging the indispensable service 
that Colonel Warne and others rendered in saving the life 
of the boy Sam, as well as other innocent negroes of that 
part of the state. 

Colonel Nelson had fought the entire length of the Civil 
War on the Confederate side. At the close of the war, he 
accepted the result in good faith, and was ever after as true 
to the Federal Government as anyone who ever wore the 
blue. 



385 



MAUDELLE. 



When he returned to his home, he found his extensive 
plantation (fifteen thousand acres) under cultivation by 
the same negroes he had left there four years before, 
although free, they had not left the estate. What was 
more remarkable, that Uncle Ben, who was overseer or 
foreman of the plantation, turned over to the colonel thou- 
sands of dollars in cash from the sale of cotton, as well 
as an accurate account of all the running expenses of the 
plantation. 

Uncle Ben, like other negroes on the place, had learned 
to read, write and figure. Of course this was not compatible 
with the Southern notion, but the colonel encouraged his 
slaves to learn all they could, and, if that will make them 
run away, "Let them go," said he. 

The fact is, none ever went. Colonel Nelson never sold 
a negro, but bought them, as he used to say, to give some 
poor devil a better home. 

Major Warne, whose plantation joined that of Colonel 
Nelson, was a man also distinguished for his conservative prin- 
ciple and fair dealing with black and white. Through the 
influence of these gentlemen, that part of the state had never 
been disgraced by the mobbing of an innocent negro. It 
was a profound secret how they managed to protect so many 
negroes; and those rash, impulsive whites never found it 
out. A n e gro might be jailed, or even in the hands of a 
mob, and en, as by magic, be spirited away. If the party 
was guilty? they kept their hands off. 

In the c&se of Sam, Maudelle had convinced the colonel 
of Sam's innocence; she explained her plan of rescue to him 
and the colonel joined her. 

He found out when the mob would take the boy from 
jail, where they would go to hang him, what kind of dis- 
guise they and their horses would wear. He secured black 
cloth, etc., for himself and Maudelle, dressed himself and 
horse, fell in line with the mob, feigning to be one of them , 



386 



MAUDELLE. 



so as to be present when Maudelie released the boy, so that 
should any violence be attempted on her, he intended to 
throw off his disguise and protect her. 

Major Warne was there disguised for the same pur- 
pose. 

The reader has not forgotten that when Maudelie 
mounted the mare Bettie, and came out into the road, the 
man who dashed up to her and grabbed at her was Colonel 
Nelson, who pretended he was trying to catch her, but took 
the opportunity to tell her to put the mare into a run and 
outdistance the mob. 

Colonel Nelson had been unfortunate in raising a family. 
Two daughters and one son died in their early teens, which 
left him but one son, the youngest who had graduated at 
the naval school at Annapolis, Maryland, and had been 
commissioned lieutenant in the navy. Young Nelson was 
in principle an exact prototype of his father. 

In personal appearance, he was prepossessing, but not 
handsome. But he had the strongly-marked characteristics 
of a manly man, which more than supplemented a hand- 
some face. 

Harrison— as he was known at home — was the idol of 
black and white, yet he made no effort to be that. He was 
always an old man in his manners, a kind of matter-of-fact 
plain boy. Yes or no was all of it with him, and he never 
made any further effort to convince those who seemed 
unwilling to accept his word. Although Colonel Nelson 
was very rich, he never allowed himself nor his family to 
make an extravagant use of money. Industry was a part 
of his religion / and he and his had to work. 

He became intensely interested in Maudelle's work among 
the negroes. It seemed to be a great pleasure to him to 
watch Maudelie, as she superintended the construction of 
the large school-building, a few miles from the city, on 
land purchased from him, 



3S7 



MAUDELLE. 



It was discovered that the leaders of the mob were mak- 
ing strenuous efforts to find out who was Sam's deliverer 
from the mob. From the interest which Maudelle was 
taking in the negroes she was suspected. Some said that 
the wonderful exhibition of courage was not that of a woman, 
while others contended that the only difference between a 
Yankee woman and man was, that one wore skirts and the 
other trousers. 

But in a few weeks the web of guilt was slowly, but surely, 
winding about Maudelle, and, at a time not remote, she 
knew she would have to answer. Her friends, Nelson and 
Warne, were keeping as closely up with developments as 
possible, and assured Maudelle of their protection without 
secret reserve, if it should come to that. But Maudelle ob- 
jected to anything like bringing them into open revo ] t 
against anyone of their neighbors. Thus she suggested a 
better plan, which was agreed to. Said she, "I have 
already obligated myself to do some work in another state, 
whenever the people comply with the conditions. They 
have done so and are waiting for me. I will stop the work 
here for a few months and take up the work there; it may 
be by the time I return, that the mob or its leaders will be 
more fully convinced of the boy's innocence, and may be 
willing to forgive his liberator." 

So as to give no semblance of running from the enemy, 
Maudelle made it publicly known that operations on the 
present work would be suspended for a few months, or 
until previous engagements in another state were filled. 
She settled with the laborers and also for the material, 
left the unfinished work in care of friends and took leave 
for other parts, without let or hindrance. 



388 



CHAPTER XXXII. 



1 i THE SPEECH THAT MADE HISTORY," AND THE ANSWER 
THAT COST A LIFE. 

The speech, which we shall copy, or as much of it as 
relates to the negroes, was delivered in — — , at the time 
that that state was working its way out of what the speaker 
was pleased to vividly designate as ''negro domination." 

The speech is credited to an orator by the name of 
"Gaston," according to the eminent author of "Leopard 
Spots," and is headed by him thus: — 

"The speech that made history," said Mr. Gaston. 
"You cannot build a Democracy inside a nation of two an- 
tagonizing races. The future American must be an Anglo- 
Saxon or a mulatto. The future North Carolinian must 
therefore be an Anglo-Saxon or a mulatto. 

"The hour has come in our history to eliminate the negro 
from our life and establish for all time the government of 
our fathers. What is our condition to-day in the dawn of 
the twentieth century? 

"If we attempt to move forward, we are literally chained 
to the body of a festering black death. Fifty of our great 
counties are again under the heel of the negro, and the state 
is in his clutches. Our city governments are debauched 
by his vote. His insolence threatens our womanhood, and 
our children are beaten by negro toughs on the highway 
to school, while we pay his taxes. 

"Shall we longer tolerate negro inspectors of white 
schools and negroes in charge of white institutions ? Shall 
we longer tolerate the arrest of white women by negro of- 
ficers and their trial before negro magistrates? Let the 



3*9 



MAUDELLE. 



manhood of the Aryan race, with its four thousand years 
of authentic history answer the question. It is no longer 
a question of impossible government. We lag behind the 
age, dragging the corpse to which we are chained. ' Who 
shall deliver us from the body of this dead ?' 

"Hear me, men of my race, Norman and Celt, Angle 
and Saxon, Dane and Frank, Huguenot and German martyr 
blood. The hour has struck, when we must rise in our 
might, break the chains which bind us to this corruption, 
strike down the negro as a ruling power and restore to our 
children their birthright, which we received as a priceless 
legacy from our fathers. 

"I believe God's call to our race to do His work in his- 
tory. 

"What other races failed to do you wrought in this con- 
tinental wilderness, fighting pestilence, hunger, cold, wild 
beasts and savage hordes, until out of all has grown a mighty 
nation of the earth. Is the negro worthy to rule you? 
Ask history. The African has held one-fourth of this globe 
for three thousand years. He never has made one step in 
progress, or rescued one jungle from the ape and adder, 
except as a slave of a superior race. 

"In Hayti and San Domingo, he rose in servile insurrec- 
tion and butchered fifty thousand white men, women and 
children, a hundred years ago. He has ruled the beautiful 
island since. Did he make progress with the example of 
Aryan civilization? No. But yesterday we received re- 
ports of the discovery of cannibalism in Hayti. He has 
had one hundred years' trial in the Northern states of this 
Union, with every facility for culture and progress, and he 
has not produced one man, who has added a feather's 
weight to the progress of humanity. 

"In an hour of madness the dominion of the great states 
of the South was given up without a struggle, and a sat- 
urnalia of infamy followed. Shall we return to this? You 



39° 



MAUDELLE. 



must answer. The corruption of his ^presence in our body 
politic is beyond the power of reckoning. We drove the 
carpet-bagger from our midst, but the scallawag, our native 
product, is always w r ith us, to fatten on this corruption 
and breed death to society. The one was a highwayman, 
the other a sneak. 

"So long as the negro is a factor in our political life, will 
violence and corruption stain our history. 

"We cannot afford longer to play with violence. We 
must remove the cause. Suffrage in America has touched 
the lowest tide-mud of degradation. If our cities and our 
Southern civilization are to be preserved, there must be 
a return to the founders of the republic. A government 
of the wealth, virtue and intelligence of the community 
by the debased criminal is a relapse to elemental barbar- 
ism, to which no race of freemen can submit. 

"Shall the future Carolinian be an Anglo-Saxon or a 
mulatto? that is the question before you. 

"We grant the negro the right to life, liberty and the pur- 
suit of happiness, if he can be happy without exercising 
kingship over the Anglo-Saxon race, or dragging us down 
to his level. But if he cannot find happiness, except in- 
lording it over a superior race, let him look for another 
world in which to rule. There is not room for both of us 
on this continent." 



When Mr. Gaston had finished his speech, the people 
went wild with enthusiasm. It was put to his credit as 
being the most statesmanlike and unanswerable effort 
ever before made in that part of the state, and won for him 
the gubernatorial chair of the state. Some of the rough 
whites cried out, "Where are you now, Mr. Nigger? Get 
up and dust; we are after you." The crowd caught up 
the slang epithet amid yells and groans, at the expense 
of the colored people present. 



39i 



MAUDELLE. 



Several weeks from then the colored people made ar- 
rangements to have a large meeting in another part of the 
state. They selected for their chief speaker Lawrence 
Deleno of New Orleans. Mr. Deleno had taken a very 
active part in the campaign in several of the Southern states, 
as well as his own, (Louisiana.) He was invited to speak, 
and, at the same time, a copy of Mr. Gaston's speech was 
sent to him with a request that he answer it. He accepted 
the invitation, after he had brought the matter before 
Maudelle, by a long, explanatory letter. She made a 
vigorous protest against his taking any part in the politics 

of . He contended that the character of Mr. 

Gaston's speech was so damaging to the negro, it should 
not go unanswered, but promised to make that speech 
his last. 

The meeting was held at a county race track, where an 
amphitheatre afforded seating capacity for several thou- 
sand people. It was crowded long before the hour for 
speaking. Hundreds of prominent white people occupied 
their carriages within hearing distance of the speaker's 
stand. 

Of course the colored people came to hear an argument 
in their defense. The white people came out of mere 
curiosity, to see and hear the negro who had the daring as- 
sumption to attempt to answer what all agreed was the 
greatest speech on the records of the state. 

A few minutes before ten A. M., a double carriage swept 
through the gate and dashed down to the speaker's stand, 
before the amphitheatre, and halted. Three gentlemen, 
(two colored and one white) stepped from the carriage 
and at once ascended the steps to the stand and took seats. 
A colored brass band set the building and the surrounding 
air vibrating with a national melody, which touched and 
put in motion sympathetic chords of patriotism in the breast 
of every negro. 



39 2 



MAUDELLE. 



J. H. Boden, a colored man, a townsman of the place, 
and one of the three men on the stand, acted as chairman. 
A prominent white man was introduced as the first speaker. 
The hearty applause given him by the colored people, 
bespoke his friendship for the race. He made a logical, 
clean-cut speech of thirty minutes, which was received 
with a great deal of warmth by all present. 

Next the chairman introduced Mr. Lawrence Deleno, 
attorney-at-law, of New Orleans. Lawrence rose to his 
feet, with a well-proportioned strong framework, and clean- 
cut, French features, an exact counterpart of Judge Deleno, 
his father. 

As Lawrence came forward, three thousand or more 
negro throats opened, and the ovation became deafening, 
for several minutes. Lawrence stood silent with embar- 
rassment, which showed that he possessed great modesty 
back of which there is great reserved power. 

Lawrence's Speech. 

"In response to your kind invitation. I am here to inter- 
change thoughts with you relating to the political, moral 
and social status of the colored and white race. 

"We may differ in our process of reasoning to reach the 
same conclusion. We may introduce propositions and 
elements which may be susceptible of two or more inter- 
pretations, but if they are sustained by truth, there should 
be no unpleasant friction between individuals or parties, 
especially in this country, which has for its basic principle 
freedom of speech, press and pulpit. 

"And this is the chief thing which gives America that 
acknowledged prominence over other countries of the world. 
Its form of government adapts itself to all the reasonable 
wants and laudable aspirations of its citizens, as well as 
throws open a door to the worthy stranger of foreign lands. 

393 



MAUDELLE. 



" Every separate individual, every family circle, organ- 
ization in church or state, whether composed of white, 
black, rich, poor, learned or unlearned, has a power 
delegated to it from the great head, from which each 
department derives its authority to become the embodi- 
ment of a minor government within itself replete with 
such laws or rules as are suited to its wants, purposes and 
conditions. 

"But whether we are all keeping faith with our promise 
or not, is a question which our deeds and actions will 
answer, whether we would have it so or not. Perhaps 
there has never before been such a time in the history 
of our Southland as there is now, when the temptation 
to break over the sacred boundary of one another's rights 
prevails. 

"Men who have heretofore enjoyed the reputation for 
clean characters, honesty and uprightness, are now sac- 
rificing not only all this, but even all claims to higher, spir- 
itual preferments, simply to satisfy the\r political ambi- 
tion for political domination. What is true of an individual 
member of a political party is, in the concrete true of the 
entire party. And whether right or wrong, each partisan 
and his respective, composite party claim infallible wis- 
dom. 

"It seems to be unfortunate for the negro, that he has 
uncompromisingly allied his influence and interest with 
the Republican party. It is not necessary to discuss the 
reasons why it is so, but from the fact that it is so, is proof 
enough that there is some just and tangible reason for their 
choice. 

"It is the opinion of some race leaders, that a dissemina- 
tion of negro votes equally among both political parties 
would have secured to him better protection, owing to his 
worth as a political factor, than he has now. As it is, the 
negro is charged with his own political sins, and also with 



394 



MAUDELLE. 



those of tne party with which he affiliates. This is unfair 
in principle and wholly unjust in the methods and means 
resorted to in this and other campaigns, not only to rob 
the negro of his political rights but even of his life, if he 
dares to insist on maintaining and exercising those rights. 

1 1 These thoughts remind me that I am here to answer 
a speech delivered a short time ago by Mr. Gaston of your 
state. I shall not attempt to reply to him in the same 
vehement spirit of hatred and disregard for facts which 
characterized his speech. 

"On the other hand I shall deal in a spirit of truth and 
fairness. 

"But if Mr. Gaston has been unfortunate in a choice 
of argumentative elements for his speech, and the answer 
to these elements must necessarily be drawn to a sharp 
edge, it will be no fault of mine ; as he has thrown down the 
gauntlet, I have no choice but to take it up. 

" 'The future American must be an Anglo-Saxon or a 
mulatto. ' 

"This is Mr. Gaston's first and unwise assertion, with 
which he begins his speech. Such an assertion cannot 
but bring a blush of burning shame to the face of every 
right thinking white man and woman in America. 

"These words may have sounded pretty for the occasion, 
and no doubt brought a tribute of applause to the author 
at the time, but he or she who knows anything about the 
meaning and power of words, cannot but see that those 
who applauded and those who have read them with ap- 
proval have sanctioned the condemnation of their own im- 
moral conduct. 

"Modify it as you may, dislike it as you may, when you 
reduce the assertion to simple truth, it will admit of but 
one interpretation, and that is an intended, wholesale ag- 
gression of white men upon colored women, thus changing 
the complexion of the American people to a mulatto rare. 



395 



MAUDELLE, 



"This righteous conclusion is drawn from the past 
and present moral status of the black and white races. 
You have but to look about you and you will see living, 
walking, talking evidences in the persons of mulattoes 
who have an illegitimate parentage of ninety-nine white 
fathers and black mothers out of a hundred, until one-fifth 
of the negro race may rightfully claim kinship to the white 
race. 

"Does Mr. Gaston propose to augment this number of 
mulattoes by the same unholy process, until the entire 
American nation becomes hopelessly mulattorized ? God 
forbid! 

"But if Mr. Gaston objects to my interpretation of this 
much of his speech, then I have another explanation, which, 
to my mind, is decidedly more insulting to the American 
people than the first. 

"Are the American white people ready to acknowledge 
that a black man's persuasive eloquence at love-making 
is so powerful, charming and irresistible, that a white woman 
will become infatuated, hopelessly entranced, and fall into 
his arms, and the outcome will be a fulfilment of the proph- 
ecy of Mr. Gaston? 

"Is there a white man of sane mind, high or low, rich or 
poor, learned or unlearned, Christian or infidel, who is will- 
ing to acknowledge that ten million ignorant, misshapen, 
and moneyless negroes can at will infuse their blood into 
the productive nature of sixty million cultured, powerful, 
wealthy whites ? Is it possible that the mind of a cultured 
orator of Mr. Gaston's calibre has conceived and given 
birth to an idea, the father of which is hatred, an idea which 
is a gross, belying insult to the moral and Christian char- 
acter of the American people. Just think for a moment 
of the woful scene, if carried out by Mr. Gaston's scheme 
by which millions of proud, cultured families of wealth 
and world-wide honor and refinement are to be given up 



396 



MAUDELLE. 



to negroes without protest. Just think of husbands and 
trusted fathers stepping out of their homes and abandoning 
their sacred charge of wives and daughters and standing 
aside while the work of transformation from a white to a 
mulatto race is going on. 

"Yet, as absurd as it may seem, it is the contention of 
Mr. Gaston. 'The future American must be of an Anglo- 
Saxon or mulatto race.' 

"We do not question the thought of America being Anglo- 
Saxon, but we contend that any change from that is optional 
with the whites and not with the blacks. One question 
will make this as plain as a whole volume. Which way 
has the encroachment upon race chastity gone heretofore, 
from white to black or from black to white? 

"It would be wisdom for Mr. Gaston and for those who 
sanction his belief conveniently to let the mulatto question 
quietly sleep and thus guard his race against a humiliating 
but just criticism. Of course the outcry of a wide-mouth, 
guilty conscience is hard to hush into silence, notwithstand- 
ing the subtle cunningness of the guilty to muzzle every 
immoral sin, it happens, at times, that the voice of a tor- 
tured soul breaks away from the restraint and condemns 
the unsuspected criminal. 

"That indiscriminate, clandestine commingling of the two 
races, by the authority of the white man's ownership in 
negro womankind, was a sin against the two races, God 
and common decency. 

"And now these things come up to disturb the social and 
political quietude of the South. But this is only a truth- 
ful verification of that warning, 'Be sure your sins will 
find you out.' 

"It is but the natural result of the formative, public 
mind, bringing up before the South the two and more cen- 
turies of pollution, by which the negro was forced back 
many centuries beyond what he was in morals when brought 



397 



MAUDELLE. 



to this country, and now that the day of redemption ha* 

come, you axe struck with a terrorizing panic. 

"Says Mr. Gaston, 'We drag behind the age, dragging 
the corpse to which we are chained.' 

"Here Mr. Gaston draws a sharp line around the 

condition of the people of — , and makes a very 

unfortunate comparison between his people and the mur- 
derer mentioned in Jewish history. 

"The analogy is indeed remarkably striking, and if Mr. 
Gaston did not see the trap into which he was going, that 
is none of my business. The Jewish murderers were chained 
to their victims and driven into the uninhabited country, 
followed by vultures, jackals and other carrion-feeding 
animals, flies and reptiles. The murderers had to eat, 
sleep, drink and drag these offensive, putrefying, grinning 
corpses about with them until the flesh had decomposed 
and was torn from the bones by carrion-feeders and the 
bones had fallen apart, before the criminal was free. His 
punishment became so loathsome and terrorizing that the 
poor wretch cried day and night, 'who shall deliver me from 
the body of this dead? 5 

" Mr. Gaston has pictured his people in exactly the same 
condition, and even cries out in his speech/ Who shall deliver' 
— his people from the racial dead body of their negro victims ? 

'T assure you, Mr. Gaston, that you and many of your 
race will no doubt drag the negro corpse until the penalty 
incident to your crime is paid. 

"There was an unseen hand which chained you to that 
body in 1620, and at the hour and minute you exchanged 
dollars with a Dutch captain for negro souls, and now all 
the wailing of the lifetime of this great nation will not ef- 
fect a deliverance, until you have returned to the negro an 
exact equivalent for toil, life and liberty; and every unjust 
murder of to-day, by mob violence or otherwise, and 
deprivation will only defer that deh'veran^ 



398 



f MAUDELLE. 



"But this is not all of it. Turn back a page in your 
history, the dates of which begin on 1503 and run through 
three and a quarter centuries — centuries which are as black 
with crime as though written with the smutty finger of 
hell. 

"You not only stole the African but you induced the 
natives to burn and destroy villages and homes and kill 
the old and those not salable, for which you paid in rotten 
rum and worthless trinkets. You drove your human cargo 
to the coast, and to distinguish them from those of other 
owners, you branded them with a hot iron which hissed 
and smoked as it was pushed into the quivering flesh. You 
crowded thousands below decks, where their filthy condi- 
tion bred disease and death. And not only the dead but 
the dying and those thought to be too sick to recover were 
hurled into the sea while pitifully begging to be allowed 
to die on deck — not less than twenty-five thousand a year 
perished in this way. 

"Again, to force negroes into a country of books, Bibles 
and Christian civilization, and then make it a penalty of 
death for him to attempt to aspire to intelligence, is another 
dead weight added to the body of the dead, of which you 
complain. 

"Again, Mr. Gaston says, 'The hour has struck when 
we must rise in our might and break the chains that bind 
us to this corruption. 7 

"You may 'rise', my dear sir, as high as you can, and ex- 
ert as much 'might* as you may, but be assured, that cor- 
ruption will rise with you, as a part of your being and as 
inseparable as any other sin of the soul, until you have sat- 
isfied the requirements of the God of justice. 

"I know your disposition is to eliminate the negro by 
violence and thus free yourself of his presence and your 
responsibility. Try it if you will, strike them down on all 
sidec with the vengeance of a wounded, blind serpent, but 



399 



MAUDELLE. 



this will not bring to you and yours relief, until the thing 
you made a beast you have remade into a man. 

"Our God will not hold you so greatly responsible for 
bringing the negroes into this country, and even enslaving 
him, in the blind ignorance of that age, but in this hour of 
freedom and better enlightenment, you continue to rob 
the negro of the facilities and opportunities of the making 
of himself all that God intended he should be — and for this 
you must atone. 

"Again, Mr. Gaston says, 'Ask history. The African 
has held one-fourth of this globe for three thousand years. 
He has never taken one step in progress, except as a slave 
of a superior race.' 

"This assertion is sadly in want of proof. The author 
is either color-blind with hatred or he is wofully ignor- 
ant of ancient history, which he invites the American 
people to search for facts, and those who will take the 
time to do so, will find the answer adverse to his asser- 
tion. It may truthfully be said of the Hamitic races, of 
which the African is one of the branches, that they all 
have had their entrance and exit, and each one has played 
his part in the drama of nations. When the ancestors 
of the African were teaching a civilization replete with 
science, art, mechanics, medicine, law, civil government, 
social and political economics, and military tactics, the 
ancestors of the Anglo-Saxons were living in holes in 
the ground and drinking blood from human skulls. But 
the offspring of these savages should not be thought 
less of on account of their low origin, nor should the 
African be cursed because he has changed places with 
them for a time. I say, ' for a time/ advisedly, because 
it is the current opinion of unprejudiced thinkers, that the 
cycle of time will wheel into line the black and yellow races, 
in combination next time, who shall take the lead of the 
world again. 



400 



MAUDELLE.? 



"It would be only a needless and rather tiresome repe- 
tition of familiar history to go into a detailed account of the 
African races and their descendants. We consider a mere 
allusion will be sufficient to show the fallacy of Mr. Gaston's 
assertion. It is not necessary to say but one word forjhe 
Egyptian, who rose to a wonderful height in science, art 
and mechanics. These people were unquestionably Hamitic 
and by no means so far removed from the African of to-day 
as are the Anglo-Saxons from the Aryans. 

"Again, the ethnographic relation of the Phoenician is 
Hamitic, in which well-founded authority and the Bible 
concur. Gen. X., 6-20 verses inclusive, refer to these and 
other peoples. 

"The Phoenicians were the first and greatest navigators 
of the world. Writing and arithmetic and the tables of 
weights and measures are accredited to these people, which 
the Anglo-Saxon has borrowed and reduced to the science 
of his age. 

"Says a great author, 'The Phoenician inventors of ship- 
building and skilled seamen were never matched by any 
nation before them nor after them. 

"Again, the Abyssinians in Eastern Africa were a power- 
ful people. These people were Hamitic, with a direct 
origin in the Ethiopian, and later became mixed with the 
Hebrew. They were rich in pastoral and agricultural pos- 
sessions. They founded a strong and powerful kingdom 
and held their own among the nations of the world. 

"Next, the Carthaginians on the Northern coast of Africa 
were of Hamitic origin, though mixed with other peoples, 
some of whom were of the original, Hamitic stock. The 
beginning of the Carthaginian glory dates back one hun= 
dred years before the founding of Rome and eight hundred 
and fifty years before Christ. 

"These people gave their language to the Hebrews and 
Greeks, and established an empire which stood against the 

46s 



MAUDELLE. 



combined forces of surrounding nations for more than four 
hundred years. The Carthaginians rose to be the highest 
military power of their day and held the world by the throat 
five hundred years B.C., and at one time launched upon the 
turbulent bosom of the ocean three thousand ships of war 
manned by one hundred thousand men. Two thousand 
one hundred and twenty-two years ago, the great Hannibal 
began a military career, which no age has equalled for the 
daring and invincible genius of the man. 

"He was not only the first to make human tracks over 
the defying, formidable Alps, but he opened a road for the 
safe passage of the civilized nations of to-day. 

"Now turn further toward the Northeast of the African 
Continent and you will be brought to the Ethiopian empire, 
the beginning of which runs back into the early morning of 
time, when mankind first began to come together and estab- 
lish governments for mutual protection. 

"Ethiopia at one time rose to such military power and 
independence, that she conquered the entire Nile Valley, 
and placed her kings on Egyptian thrones and dominated 
that country for several generations. 

"She also rose high in the literary status of the age. 
She compiled a great number of books on science, law, re- 
ligion as well as poetry of a high order, one example of 
which in sentiment and meaning at so early an age, which 
was, 'My God Reigns.' 

"In the Ethiopian Canon there are a great number of 
works of interest, such as the Kufale, Book of Enoch, As- 
cension of Isaiah and thirty-five books incorporated in the 
New Testament. 

"Many of these are still preserved in European libraries. 
There are three hundred MSS. in the archives at St. Peters- 
burg, Russia. 

"The Ethiopian may justly take credit for giving the 
world the basic principles of civil law, which has wound its 



402 



MAUDELLE. 

way down through twenty-seven centuries to accommodate 
all civilized peoples. This is set forth in the XVIII. chap- 
ter of Exodus, when Jethro, the Ethiopian priest and 
father-in-law of Moses, came to bring his wife and children 
to Moses. The experienced eyes of the black priest saw 
that Moses was wearing himself out in his efforts to adjust 
the differences among his people. Hence the laws and rules 
suggested by Jethro were approved by our God and at 
once put into practice, and stand until now. 

" We might speak of the Queen of Sheba, who exchanged 
state courtesies with King Solomon. We might speak of 
Hiram of Tyre, the great master worker in wood, stone and 
metal, to whom Solomon appealed for help in build- 
ing and ornamenting the temple. Said Solomon, 'We 
have no skill in Israel like the Sidonians.' He made 
a contract with Hiram for skilled workmen and material, 
I. Kings, V. — VIII. chapters inclusive. We might speak 
of other well-known Bible characters and even prove to 
you that Jesus Christ was the great, great grandson of a 
negro. 

"But let us go deeper into the dark continent, where all 
civilizing influences have been shut out from the negro, 
and whatever is found will simply be the product of innate 
nature and self -creative ideals. 

"All that I may say will be taken from the most reliable 
and unbiased explorers of the African continent. That 
region which lies between the Mountains of the Moon and 
the Great Desert, running through Central Africa westward 
into Negroland, are large cities, containing from ten thou 
sand to thirty thousand souls, preserving the forms of 
social justice and enlightened worship. These people earn- 
on productive industries and have many of the arts and ap- 
pliances of civilization. 

"Mungo Park gives an account of Sego, the capital of 
Bombuwa, which is a city of thirty thousand inhabitants 

403 



MAUDELLE. 



with two-story houses, with mosques in convenient and 
well-kept quarters. They have their ferry and pleasure 
boats plying on the rivers and lakes. Park says, 4 The cul- 
tivated state of the surrounding country formed altogether 
a prospect of civilization and magnificence which I little 
expected to find in the bosom of Africa.' 

' i Further East he found a large and flourishing town 
called Kaffa, situated in the midst of a country so beautiful 
and highly cultivated that, 'It/ says he, i reminded me of 
England.' 

"Of the Mandingoes, he says, 4 They are shrewd mer- 
chants and industrious agriculturists. They are kind and 
hospitable, entertaining with generous disposition and open 
and gentle manners/ 

" 'But,' says the same author, 'the most remarkable 
people among the natives are the Fuenloes, whose native 
seat is in the Southern part of the plateaus. Here in their 
lofty independence, they cultivate the soil, live in clean, 
commodious dwellings, raise numerous flocks of sheep, 
goats, horses and cattle. They build mosques and worship 
one God. They also have schools for the education of 
their children. They practise the mechanic arts with suc- 
cess, forge iron and silver, make cloth and work skilfully 
in leather and wood.' 

"The Ashantees rise highest in civilization, and have 
always maintained their footing against invasion up to date. 
These have a powerful kingdom, replete with laws and social 
ethics, schools, etc. I might continue my answer to your 
sweeping charge against the African for hours, but I have 
said more than enough to prove your ignorance of history 
and that you intended to misrepresent the negro, to damage 
his standing before the world. 

"Next, you force me to pay my respects to your charge 
against Hayti and San Domingo. You say, i In Hayti and 
San Domingo he rose (the negro) in servile insurrection 



404 



MAUDELLE. 



and butchered fifty thousand white men, women and chil- 
dren a hundred years ago.' 

"I am cognizant of the truth of Mr. Gaston's statement, 
and my sense of honor and method of fair dealing with 
mankind will not allow me, under any circumstances, to 
cover a national or individual crime of which the negro is 
guilty, now or a hundred years ago. In this case let us 
reason from cause to effect and place the blame where it 
belongs, whether for or against the negro. 

"In our retrospective survey of the history of San Do- 
mingo and Hayti, we shall see whether the 'servile insur- 
rection' complained of was a righteous blow for freedom 
or a morbid, inhuman, savage butchery for greed and the 
love of human gore. 

"When the island was discovered, it was the happy 
home for more than a million people of gentle disposition, 
but they were reduced to a relentless system of slavery 
by the white man, which was so inhumanly cruel that in 
fifteen years nine hundred thousand had perished by star- 
vation, lashing and even the sword, under their white mas- 
ters. The island was soon depopulated of its laborers. 
Then began the importation of negroes from Africa to 
supply the want, which was carried on at the rate of twenty 
thousand a year, so that in 1789 the blacks had reached 
seven hundred thousand, all of whom were slaves, There 
was an acquisition of sixty thousand mulatto es, whose 
fathers were white planters, merchants, professional men, 
etc., and whose mothers were negro slaves. 

"The mulattoes were educated by their fathers and then 
left to fight the world single-handed for a competency. 
They were deprived of all the social functions of their 
father's household and other civil liberties of church and 
state. This caused them to hate their white fathers and 
white relations with all the intensity of their souls, and they 
were ever on the alert to strike for their rights, 



405 



MAUDELLE. 



"On the French part of the island lived twenty thou- 
sand whites in the midst of thirty thousand mulattoes and 
five hundred thousand slave blacks. In the Spanish part 
of the island the preponderance was much greater in the 
number of slaves. 

"The slaves knew their strength and waited only for an 
opportunity to use it. 

"That opportunity came — as it has come to others in 
similar distress — through the efforts of Wilberforce, Sharp, 
Buxton and others to end the slave trade in the island. 

"The mulattoes sent a representative to Paris in the 
person of Oge, to urge their claims for equal rights. Their 
request was granted. 

"On the return of Oge to the island, he was murdered 
by the whites. The mulattoes then appealed to the blacks 
to join them in a blow for freedom. The slaves rose to the 
occasion and carried fire and death to every part of the 
island. 

"And this is what Mr. Gaston is pleased to designate 
a ' servile insurrection.' 

"We might speak of the treachery of the whites, who 
finding themselves defeated, appealed to the mulattoes to 
join them to put down the slaves, by a promise of equal 
rights. But no sooner had they shifted the war off their 
hands to the mulattoes than they violated every pledge. 

"There were more than one hundred and fifty thousand 
slaves put to death by the whites in the most barbarous 
manner. Men, women and children were sewed up in 
sacks and thrown into the sea. Others were chained and 
thrown into pits to be torn to pieces by hungry, savage 
dogs. 

" Now let us place the finding of Mr. Gaston of the num- 
ber killed in ' servile insurrection' in juxtaposition to our 
finding and we shall see how the figures look to a civilized 
people. 



4 o6 



MAUDELLE 



Caxibbeans killed in fifteen years 900,000 

Africans perished on shipboard in transit to the 

island 350,000 

Slaves put to death in time of insurrection 150,000 

Total, .1,400,000 

Whites killed by Mr. Gaston's k servile insurrection' 50,000 

"Some authors place the number of slaves killed from 
the discover}' of the island to its independence at least a 
third higher, but I take my figures from Dr. Brown, who 
visited the island in 1859. So as to give Mr. Gaston the 
advantage of the doubt, I take the lowest estimate. 

" Again, says Mr. Gaston, 'He, (the negro) has had one 
hundred years of trial in the Northern states of this Union, 
with every facility of culture and progress; he has not pro- 
duced one man who has a feather's weight in the progress 
of humanity.' 

"Mr. Gaston is wofully ignorant of the negro's history 
in America, or it is his intention to mislead and prejudice 
the public against the colored people. The assertion he 
makes is as untrue as it is unkind. There never has been 
a time — nor is there now in this Union — when — and where 
— the facilities for colored, mentally, morally or even re- 
ligiously, were ever anything like equal. 

"The facilities for learning trades have never been fully 
open to the colored youth of the North. There are hundreds 
of cases on record where colored boys and men have been 
mobbed and driven from machine establishments, although 
the owner was good enough to give the colored person a 
place. 

"It is only of very recent date that the schools and col- 
leges of the North opened their doors to colored students. 
The negro always has had white friends who were willing 
that he should have the same chance to learn professions 



407 



MAUDELLE, 



and trades side by side with the whites, but the great ma- 
jority of whites were greatly opposed to the negro occupy- 
ing any place of industry, except such as the whites did not 
want. When Miss Prudence Crandall started a school in 
Connecticut for the education of colored females, in 183 1, 
it was considered an offence of such magnitude to edu- 
cate colored youth, that her school was not only broken up 
and the pupils stoned and beaten by the mob, but she was 
arrested and throw r n into prison and made to suffer as a 
common criminal. 

"In 1835-6-7, whenever a negro school was established, 
it was broken up by mobs, and whenever the better class 
of white people showed friendship for the negro, they were 
also mobbed. In 1835, a society of white ladies in Boston, 
those who stood for freedom and the education of the col- 
ored people, were mobbed and insulted on every occasion. 
Cruelty to the negroes became so unbearable that the col- 
ored people of New York and Philadelphia in mass meetings 
appealed to the state and city authorities for protection in 
their civil rights. The authorities gave no attention to the 
negroes, but showed a contemptible silence which warranted 
the enemies of the negroes to increase their violence. 

" Negro schools and churches were broken up, and even 
the homes of those who made any protest were also destroyed 
and the inmates killed or driven off. In Boston, where 
some of the whites showed a friendliness for the colored 
people, they were insulted and mobbed, not only by the 
rough and ignorant whites, but by some of the first families. 
Such composed the mob which dragged William Lloyd 
Garrison through the streets of Boston, whose life was saved 
only by the authorities putting him into prison. 

"In Utica, N. Y., a mob was headed by one Judge Beards- 
ley, a prominent citizen, who broke up a meeting of colored 
and white citizens, who were devising plans to better the 
condition of colored people. 

408 



MAUDELLE 



"In 1837-9, in Philadelphia, New York, Troy and Utica, 
if a negro, when insulted, dared to make any attempt to 
defend himself, he was hunted like a wild beast and, if 
caught, was murdered like a mad dog in open daylight, 
under the eyes of the officers of the law, who never inter- 
fered. 

"A white man with impunity might grossly insult the 
wife or daughter of a negro, who could offer no protest, 

"When the first fugitive slave law was enacted in 1793, 
it was bad enough, but when it was amended in 1830, its 
effects became intolerable. 

"The law was made so as to allow the slaveholders of 
the South to go into any Northern state, employ officers 
or mobs to hunt down not only their slaves, but even 
the children of the slaves born and reared in the North. 
Thirty-six hours after the passage of the bill, colored 
people who owned homes and other property left all and 
fled to Canada, the only safe place in the great North 
American Continent. Those who did not go suffered a 
living death. 

" Cincinnati, Ohio, has on her history one spot of blood 
caused by her sanction of the Fugitive Slave Law, which is 
charged up to her everlasting discredit. A slave woman, 
by the name of Margaret Gardner, who escaped with her 
daughter to Cincinnati, was hunted down. The officers 
came to arrest her, she and her daughter being at work in 
the kitchen of a white family at the time. The mother 
seized a butcher knife, stabbed her little daughter to 
the heart, exclaiming with an outcry of deepest agony, 
'Great God! I send the soul of my child to Thee, rather 
than let it become a slave and mistress to a white man.' 
This said, she turned to her captors and said, T am ready 
to go.' 

" 'Equal facilities,' says Mr. Gaston. Back of i860, 
and several years after, colored men desirous of studying 



409 



MAUDELLE. 



beyond what could be had in a common, district school, 
had to go to Canada or England and get what their native 
land positively denied them. 

"Dr. McCune Smith, could not enter an American col- 
lege of medicine, but had to go to the University of Glas- 
gow, Scotland, where he graduated with honors and re- 
ceived the diploma of an M. D. 

"Miss Edmonia Lewis, a sculptor, had to go to Rome. 

" Robert Elliot went to Holborn Academy, London, Eng- 
land, in 1855, entered Eton College, England, studied law, 
graduated in 1859 and came ba,ck to America. 

"It was not until 1848 and 1855 that colored youth were 
admitted into some of the white schools in the New Eng- 
land States. 

"Facilities for negroes to do common, public labor in the 
Northern cities have never been equal nor partially so. 
The low Irish, who always have been the negro's greatest 
enemy, have always controlled and claimed for themselves 
that kind of work. Whenever negroes were engaged by 
white men, who were willing to divide work with negroes, 
the negro laborers were mobbed and driven off. In 1863, 
negroes were employed to load and unload steamers plying 
between New York and foreign countries. American white 
labor did not desire this kind of work, as it is particularly 
hard, very much like handling cotton bales on the Missis- 
sippi steamers. But the Irish, like the dog in the manger, 
determined the negroes should not have it, therefore armed 
themselves and mobbed and killed negroes wherever they 
found them. The negroes appealed to the city authorities, 
but got no hearing. They sent a delegation to Governor 
Seymore, and his reply to the committee was this, 'The 
state cannot hire officers to stand guard over black men. 
You must protect yourselves like white men do.' 

"Such advice from the governor of a state was calcu- 
lated to precipitate bloodshed, but the negroes bent to their 



L4 ia 



MAUDELLE, 



fate, Up until 1862, negroes had open to them two re- 
courses to get bread, the barber shop and the hotel, as din- 
ing room waiters. But the poor whites have even gone 
to waiting on table and scraping faces. Yet Mr. Gaston 
and other enemies of the negro complain that he has not 
come up to their expectation. Could Mr. Gaston and 
those who think as he does have done better with no better 
chance ? 

" There is no reasonable excuse for the poverty and ig- 
norance of a white man, who always has had this country 
to draw on for help and protection. He has had nothing 
to do but climb, and if he has not reached a respectable 
standing all these ages, with the unstinted advantages at 
his hand, then he has not shown the progress and econom- 
ical industry of the negro, whose advantages have been 
ninety per cent. less. 

" However, Mr, Gaston says, 4 The negro has not pro- 
duced one man who has added a feather's weight to the 
progress of humanity.' 

"Mr. Gaston may have forgot, or perhaps never knew, 
that the first bloodshed for the independence of America— 
of which he boasted as the country left to him by his an- 
cestors — I say he may not know that Crispus Attucks, 
a negro, led the white men of Boston against the British- 
soldiers, March 5, 1770. The British fired and the negro 
fell dead, as the first sacrifice of the independence of this 
great but unkind country to the negro. 

"From then until the present there never has been a war 
in this country but that the negro has freely given of his 
life and labor. But to give an account of the many battles 
in which negroes distinguished themselves would extend 
this speech unnecessarily long. 

"Bancroft's history goes into details and makes honor- 
able mention of the fight of negroes at Bunker Hill, Cam- 
bridge, and the capture of Major General Prescott, by the 



411 



MAUDELLE. 



negro Prince; also the Battle of Red Bank, also the des- 
perate fight over the dead body of Colonel Green, their 
commander. 

" Again the part the negroes took in the war of 1812, is 
mentioned so favorably by Major General Jackson and 
others. 

" Again, in the Civil War ? of 1860-1865, there were one 
hundred thousand black men under arms, and not one of 
that number ever deserted or quit the field as long as there 
were officers to command them. 

"We shall mention but few negroes out of hundreds who 
have distinguished themselves in science and art before 
i860. 

"First is Benjamin Banneker, a negro, self-educated, 
but who mastered five languages as well as astronomy, 
Mr. Banneker gave the world an almanac, a copy of which 
was sent to Thomas Jefferson. Mr. Jefferson thanked 
Banneker for the gift in a long, friendly letter. Banneker 
was one of the commissioners to lay out the District of 
Columbia. 

"Next is Miss Edmonia Lewis, a renowned sculptor. 
Up to 1870 she had brought out from her studio in Rome 
several masterpieces, the bust of Colonel Shaw, Hagar in 
the Wilderness, a Madonna, the Infant Christ in her arms, 
and two adoring angels at her feet, two groups illustrating 
Longfellow's poem ' Hiawatha,' 'Hiawatha's Wooing and 
Marriage/ a bust of Longfellow, ordered by Harvard 
College. 

"There was William H. Simpson, a fine portrait painter, 
who ranked high in his art. His pictures were of Charles 
Sumner, prominent persons in Canada, Liberia, Hayti, 
California, New York and Philadelphia. 
^ "It is not necessary tp more than mention the name 
of Ira Aldridge, the negro tragedian who won fame in 
Europe. 



412 



MAUDELLE, 



If what we have said of negroes does not 1 add a feather's 
weight to the progress of humanity, ' it will be simply 
because Mr. Gaston is both blind and deaf to truth, 
and we pity his condition rather than condemn his in- 
telligence. 

"Says Mr. Gaston, 'The scallawag (negro,) our natural 
product, is always with us to fatten on this corruption and 
breed death to society.' 

"The negro is undoubtedly a product of the South, or 
at least those of which Mr. Gaston complains, and what- 
ever may be his shortcomings in mental or moral character 
may be charged to compulsory training. He is fresh from 
the school where gross ignorance and superstition, theft, 
deceit, immorality and treachery were the every-day lessons 
for two centuries and more, and he should be congratulated 
for his aptitude for so thoroughly mastering slavery's cur- 
riculum. Yes, Mr. Gaston, the negro is a 'natural product,' 
made exactly to the order of Southern choice — of course 
for the years gone by. But a man of reason will not expect 
one, two or three decades to unmake and then remake what 
two and a half centuries did. If Mr. Gaston has discov- 
ered that emancipation has put the negro out of harmony 
with the new South, and a better, safer and wiser negro is 
demanded for the age, then the old order of things should 
be reversed. 

"Substitute the school-house for the slave market, the 
pulpit for the auction block, books for blood-hounds, 
honest pay for honest labor and friendly advice for the 
bull whip. 

"Notwithstanding the discouraging speech of Mr. Gaston, 
the negro is cognizant of the fact, that there is no place in 
America where he has more and better friends than he has 
in this great Southland, and it is here of all other places in 
America, where the two races should join friendly hands 
and interests, because each one has what the other wants. 



413 



MAUDELLE. 



One has the means^ the other the labor. One should be 
patient and the other should be teachable. One should 
protect and rule justly, the other should obey the law re- 
spectfully. 

"But this method of the strong ruling with a rod of iron 
to induce fear in the weak, has always doubled back, sooner 
or later upon the ruler, and he has been the agent of his own 
destruction. 

"To boast of a country's greatness does not make it so, 
but the best evidence of a strong and stable government, 
and a wise, cultured people is seen in their just and fair deal- 
ing with weak inferiors. The kindness of a people toward 
the weak, ignorant and inferior is not a weakness of the su- 
perior, as some half cultured people may think. 

"There is much more that could be said in defense of 
the people whom Mr. Gaston seems bent on crushing, 
without allowing them a chance for a hearing, but I thank 
you for this opportunity to speak for them. 

"In closing I would say, that the negro is here and to 
stay, or at least a very large majority of them, and they are 
going to be good or bad, thieves or honest men, moral or 
immoral, murderers or upright, God-fearing people, in 
exact ratio to the treatment of the dominant race. It is 
with the white race to make of the black race, by precept 
and example, very much what they want them to be." 

Here Lawrence left the platform amid deafening applause. 

The Last Speech. 

Notwithstanding Lawrence had promised his friend, 
Miss Maudelle Morroe, that his speech as an answer to that 
of Mr. Gaston's would be the last political speech, or such 
as to antagonize the Southern people, unless it should be 
necessary for the defense of an innocent negro, he erred 
again. 

4H 



MAUDELLE. 



For several years Maudelle had plead earnestly with 
Lawrence, by letter, to have nothing to do with politics, 
that it was not the feasible way out of the racial difficulty 
between the whites and blacks. She contended that under 
all circumstances intelligence would govern ignorance, and 
the only way to reach an equation of friendship between 
the two races would be on the basis of moral and mental 
equality to be had through the school-room. 

Lawrence had agreed to all this, but it was hard for him 
to break away from the excitement and fascination of pol- 
itics. Thus, after answering Mr. Gaston's speech, he en- 
gaged himself to make another speech, thirty-six miles 
from there, on the next day at ten o'clock, a notice of which 
was given at the present meeting. As there were no rail- 
roads or public conveyances going that way, it was neces- 
sary to travel on horseback, and to start that night so as 
to reach the place by ten o'clock next day. 

In the middle of the night, Lawrence and his friend, 
Davison, started. The night was dark, except such light 
as fell from the stars through an unclouded atmosphere. 

At this time of night nature seems to be lifeless, as all 
things are between two days, one is going and the other 
coming. 

Now and then a cool breeze from the South bestirred 
the lazy foliage, and the lone mocking-bird, like a sentinel 
on a watch tower, bespoke the hour of the night in his 
matchless notes of the forest. 

The two horses stepped off into easy double-quick time 
— for which the Southern horse is distinguished, and by 
which he easily covers fifty miles a day. 

"You were down on the ground among the people, how 
did the whites take my speech ?" said Lawrence. 

"Well," said his friend, ''some parts were taken very well, 
but those parts which disproved Mr. Gaston's statements 
seemed to arouse bad blood and a spirit of resentment." 



MAUDELLE. 



"But I told the truth," said Lawrence. 

"So you did, but your truth exposed a falsehood, and that 
is the tiling which is going to kick up the devil," said Mr. 
Davison. 

"I have one more speech to make, and then I am forever 
through with political speech-making," said Lawrence. 

By this time the two men had just crossed a branch of run- 
ning water, from which their horses drank, and were slowly 
ascending a steep bank in single file, with Davison leading 
the way. 

" Lawrence Deleno," called a seemingly friendly voice from 
the thick underbrush twenty feet or so from the roadside. 

" Hello," said Lawrence. The next moment the flash of 
a rifle blazed out, from the brush, and Lawrence threw up 
his hands and cried out, "My God! I am killed." He fell 
backward from his horse to the ground, a dead man. 

The horse of Mr. Davison reared on his hind feet, wheeled 
and plunged down the embankment and through the branch 
followed by the other horse. Back they went in a mad, 
sweeping gallop for seven miles to H. 

No one would venture out that night to recover the body. 
By sunrise next morning two men were on the road in a 
light wagon to bring in the body. It was found as it had 
fallen, with the following note pinned on its breast: — 

''This is the way 
we will treat all niggers 
who come to this state 
to teach white people 
their duty." 

416 



MAUDELLE. 



Truly as Lawrence had said to Davison two or three 
minutes before he was shot, that he was to make but one 
more speech and then forever give it up. That speech 
consisted of five words, 

"My God, I am killed I" 

A Dream of the Living and Dead. 

In a few days the report of the assassination of Lawrence 
got into the papers and flashed over the country, North 
and South. 

At the time, Maudelle was in another state. Notwith- 
standing she for a long time had expected trouble of the 
kind and repeatedly had warned Lawrence of the danger; 
when it came she broke down, overwhelmed with grief, 
But she had to assign another cause for her distress, from 
the fact that no one in the South knew anything about the 
relation she and Lawrence sustained to each other. This 
plan of secrecy had been agreed on before she left Boston, 
a plan which was greatly against her will, for the reason 
that she was to go under disguise as a white woman. Law- 
rence convinced her that she would find her mission hard 
and unpleasant enough to go as a Yankee and much more 
so to go as a colored woman. 

Thus she and Lawrence had kept in constant touch with 
each other through the mail only, but had not met in per- 
son since they parted in Boston, 

She sent the paper to the Gillispie family which gave an 
account of the sad ending of her intended husband. 

The family were greatly alarmed and sent a telegram 
urging her to come home at once. 

Her first thought was to leave all and go. There was no one 
in the South to whom she could go and explain the true status 
of her trouble; she had not only to bear it alone, but " cow- 
ardly feign an untruthful cause, which made it doubly hard." 



4i7 



MAUDELLE. 



She went to her room early in the evening to battle alone 
with an inward anguish which the world was not allowed 
to know. 

She shut the door, locked it, drew down the window shades 
and dropped into a chair. She struck no light, but sat in 
the dark, which seemed to be more in keeping with the cause 
of her grief, which had shut out the brightest prospects of 
her future life, and all that was hopeful, fair and promising, 
had vanished into nothingness like the blaze of a momentary 
meteor. 

She sat with her face buried between her hands resting 
on the center table. There were no tears to release the 
heart of its congestion of agony, but the current of grief 
flowed inward thereby intensifying the strain on the soul's 
subconscious reservoir. 

She had several times before seemed to have reached the 
point where the margin between herself and eternity was 
but a thin thread, and hope for restoration seemed to be 
insanity, yet she never until now lost faith in the ultimate 
predominancy of right. 

"Surely there is no God/' said she, as she rose to her feet, 
and paced the floor in the dark room. "No; there can be 
no God where there is no justice, no recognition of right* 
eousness, no reward for virtue, no peace of mind or body 
for faithful service. The thing we are wont to call God 
is but a force or principle started somewhere in the center 
of misshapen, chaotic matter, and by some unexplainable 
law which set evolution going, it has worked itself out into 
laws and definite principles by which we are governed, 
and of which we being inseparable parts are to be carried 
up or down according to the swing of the cycle in whose 
orbit we move. 

"If there were a God, a special Providence, a spiritual 
guide, a kind, loving Father with heart throbs of tender 
mercy for his dependent offsprings, I say if this were true, 

418 



MAUDELLE. 



there would not be this cruel treatment, suffering and death 
of the innocent. Here I am among unfriendly strangers 
without a friend. If I were reduced to this because of some 
overt act, some inhuman desire to rob and plunder the people 
and bring want and distress upon the poor, I should feel 
that I had met a just retribution, and I would bend to what- 
ever should come without protest. 

"But the reverse is true of my humble mission. I am here 
to do my part, as I see it, to make men morally, mentally 
and religiously better, and the murder of my friend is my 
reward/' She continued to walk the floor with frequent, 
deep moans, which seemed to come from a soul struggling 
in the throes of death. 

" After all," continued she, " after all is the negro deserv- 
ing of what he has cost individuals and the general govern- 
ment ? Is it not for myself and thousands of others a need- 
less waste of time, means and peace of mind expended on 
the negro, from which no profitable results will ever come? 
Is it a fact, as some say, that the negro is cursed and eter- 
nally doomed to occupy the lowest place in the scale of 
nations and peoples ? Is it true, as some say, that the negro 
is a born coward, in the fact that he willingly bent his back 
to the lash for ten generations without striking an effective 
blow for a better condition of life? Is a freedom worth 
having that is obtained without sacrifice and labor ? Others 
had to fight for theirs, why should the negro beg for his?" 

She was trying hard to force herself to a decision, whether 
to stay longer in the South or abandon all and go home, 
That very week she had made preparations to return to 

— t and finish the work she had left seven months 

before. 

It was late in the night, and she was worn out with grief. 
She threw herself across the bed merely to calm herself 
for a few minutes, when she intended to get up and write 
to Colonel Nelson and request him to take charge of the 



419 



MAUDELLE. 



school-building and complete it and draw on her for the 

necessary money, that she was sick and had gone home. 

But once on the bed and quiet, she knew no more until 
nine o'clock next morning — three hours later than her 
usual time to rise. 

It was one of the South's most beautiful October morn- 
ings. Three frosts had nipped and seared the foliage and 
cotton stalks and leaves. The cotton bolls were in process 
of opening, and the white staple gracefully hung from their 
brown pendants harmoniously blending with the warm 
tints of the rich, autumn landscape and imparting a soft, 
purple hue and a subdued, hazy, dreamy prospect to the eye, 
for which the Southern climate is distinguished in Autumn. 

The negro cotton pickers were in the field dragging after 
them long sacks which hung from the shoulders, into which 
they put the cotton as it was picked. 

The neighborhood was enlivened by the plantation songs 
of those childlike, happy people, who live for to-day and 
all the pleasure it brings, and are unconcerned about the 
responsibilities of tomorrow. 

The mocking-bird also sang from the topmost branch 
of the elm, and now and then dipped down, cutting his 
graceful evolutions in the air with a click-clack of his bill, 
as he picked up the wobbling, lazy butterfly and other 
winged insects suited to his taste. There were flowers 
and fruits on every hand filling the air with a mellow, sweet 
fragrance, and adding a variety of lights, shades and tints, 
which gave the whole scene a charm that outrivalled the 
artistic genius of the most masterly touch. 

On the left of the mansion, a half mile distant, was the 
great steam gin from whose hundred-foot smoke stack curled 
volumes of black smoke which rolled away and vanished 
into sightless atmosphere. The buzzing and singing of 
the gin saws, which stripped the lint from the seed and 
sent it flying like snow before a cyclone into the baling 



420 



MAUDELLE. 



department, presented a scene of life and activity which 
was of particular benefit to Maudelle at the time of her 
physical collapse. 

Again she had mistrusted the Providence of a God a few 
hours before, but as she looked out upon the fields, she saw 
God in every sunbeam, in every leaf, flower, insect and bird. 
She saw God, not as a frowning, displeased Judge with 
uplifted hand to condemn her for her folly, but she saw Him 
through smiling nature as a kind, loving Father, with out- 
stretched arms inviting her back to the great heart which 
had never lost an iota of love for her. 

As she stood looking through the window, she felt the 
influence of the God of her childhood coming back to her 
as a sweet, restful and hopeful at-one-ment with the phys- 
ical and spiritual laws of divinity — laws which she neither 
made nor could she hope to modify, change or control to 
benefit herself and hers. She began to reason that disap- 
pointments are sometimes suggestive of unfoldments of new 
and happy phases of something better for the future. 

While thus soliloquizing, a dream, a peculiar dream, 
from which she had just awaked, flashed across her mind > 
and she began to recall and carefully marshal into line the 
many strange elements which composed that dream. Not 
that she was in the habit of giving credence to dreams, 
but the dream of last night was more than an ordinary 
dream. Its sharply drawn outlines filled in with scenes 
of an active, creative mind acting, as it seemed, under the 
influence of some supernatural power, which furnished 
imaginative material for the outpicturing of human destiny, 
especially of America, 

Says she, "I seemed to stand on a high eminence, which 
brought the entire North American Continent under my 
vision, with its people of the present, past and future, The 
continent seemed to be one vast stage put in readiness for a 
great drama, There was a densely black curtain which 



421 



MAUDELLE. 

stretched across the continent from East to West, and was 
made fast to the two oceans, (Atlantic and Pacific), and 
reached upward to the clouds. There came a vivid flash 
of lightning, a tremendous gong sounded, and the curtain 
slowly lifted. I saw thousands of people of which history 
makes no mention. These people towered up from eight 
to ten feet in height, and had large heads and strong limbs. 
Their only dress was an apron of animal skin tied about 
the w T aist. Their color was a dark copper, their eyes were 
black and their thick, curly hair was left to take care of 
itself. 

"They seemed to have no method of industry except to 
hunt and fish, as fancy or want might dictate, and this was 
carried on not by traps or weapons but by throwing stones 
from the hand or by fleetness of foot. 

"The climate was tropical, which produced an abun- 
dance of all kinds of food stuff. Birds, animals, reptiles 
and insects grew to enormous size. These people lived 
and ruled for ages, until finally the climate changed and 
they and all life were swept off. 

"Ages passed again, and then another people came on 
the stage. These people were not so large and strong as 
the first, but what they lost in size was gained in genius. 

"These people partook very much of the same features 
and color as the others, but had better kept hair. The 
climate being colder required some kind of shelter, and prep- 
arations for change of seasons, hence an advance in industry. 

"Ages passed again. Then came on a people of great 
intellectual power. They were progressive, aggressive and 
warlike, their color was white and their hair straight. 

"They drove the copper-colored races off, built cities, 
ships and railroads, became powerful in wealth and learn- 
ing. But from an avaricious desire for more wealth and 
less labor for themselves they brought into the country 
an inferior, ignorant race, whom they not only reduced to 



4,22 



MAUDELLE. 



vassalage, but amalgamated with them and thus weakened 
themselves morally before, other nations of the world. 

" Again, I saw these white and black people continually, 
fussing, clashing and killing one another. I saw good 
Christian men and women offering themselves as a sac- 
rifice for peace between the two races. But the great 
majority of the less-considerate blacks and whites seemed 
determined to fight it out. 

"I heard a tremendous rumbling in the East, as though 
half of the world had gone down in an earthquake. This 
continent felt the vibrations and the earth was thrown into 
spasmodic convulsions. People rushed from their homes, 
panic-stricken, children screamed, women fainted, men 
gasped, dogs howled, horses and other animals ran wild 
with fright. 

" There arose on the Eastern horizon a black cloud in 
the exact shape of a man's hand with its fingers extended 
westward. The hand stretched thousands of miles right 
and left. From the fingers there played vivid flashes of 
lightning which sprang from the finger tips and shot west- 
ward with terrific report. 

"The American people stood with upturned faces as 
though inquiring of Heaven's King for the reason why. 
They all realized the approach of a great revolution. Just 
then there came a great puffing of steam, splashing of water 
and a deafening hurrah from hundreds of millions of men. 
At the same time there came into view hundreds of thou- 
sands of ponderous war-ships and floating crafts of every 
description, black with grim, vicious-looking soldiers armed 
from tip to toe. The two great oceans were literally cov- 
ered with machinery of warfare all heading toward Amer- 
ica. These fighters were made up of the yellow , black 
and Latin races, comprising an army of invading crusaders 
of nine hundred ninety-five million of men. Africa poured 
in her three hundred million, and millions of other black 



423 



MAUDELLE 



peoples along the route fell into line. It was evident that 

no nation, or combination of nations could withstand the 
onslaught of this invincible host. Notwithstanding the 
tremendous odds, the American nation rose in its might 
and usual spirit of patriotism, flew to arms, put her navy 
in motion, manned her forts and waited for the challenge. 

"The American black people occupied a position apart 
from the whites on one wing of the army. White generals 
were addressing the negro soldiers and exhorting them to 
be as true and brave in this war as they had been in the 
wars from Bunker Hill to the Philippine Islands. A large, 
black man wearing the uniform of a captain mounted a 
high eminence on the seashore, which overlooked the ten 
million negroes who were gathered about him. Said he, 
'Sons and daughters of African descent, hear me. You 
have faithfully allied your patriotism with that of the Amer- 
ican white people since March 5, 1770, when Crispus 
Attucks fell as the first martyr of American independence. 
From that time to the present, every battlefield on which the 
American people have fought, at home or abroad, has its 
quota of the blood and bones of black soldiers. 

" 'You served your country very often for less pay per 
month and without any promise of promotion, with but 
little or no protection for your family at home. And when 
the several wars ended, the soldier was again forced back 
into his usual, humiliating condition. If we are to judge 
of the future by the past, the negro's condition will always 
be the same, or worse, no matter what sacrifice or service 
he may render to the country. 

" 1 This country is now brought face to face with a crisis, 
which if not averted at once will end its life. Will it be 
wise for the ten million negroes to throw themselves into 
the boiling, and bubbling vortex between the white and 
yellow races to save this country which the white man has 
always claimed as all his own ? Or will they ally themselves 



424 



MAUDELLE. 



with the yellow and Latin races and thus take their chance 
with them for better or worse? The fact is, should the 
governing power of this continent pass from the white to 
the darker races, it would involve the negro in no^ serious 
risk, should he throw his influence to the latter without a 
national betterment of his condition by the choice. 

14 'Because he would still have about the same chance 
for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness he now has, 
with a strong probability and possibility of something better. 

" 'I have no desire to influence you, my long-suffering 
countrymen, against your will. You must decide and act 
individually by the authority of your own judgment^ and 
if you make a mistake, you can bear it with more willing 
fortitude than you would by following the advice of others. 
As for myself, I confess I can not, I will not, wait longer 
for equal justice at the hands of the white man, 

" 'We have long since rounded off two hundred years 
of patient waiting, and the distance between the negro and 
anything better than the present seems to be rapidly widen- 
ing out into a revengeful, merciless, frigid and impassable 
zone between the two races. 

" 'Better we part than live with our fingers on each the 
other's throat.' 

"With this the captain ended his speech, and ten million 
negro throats open with thundering applause. I saw," 
continued she, "a peculiar flag run up by black hands on 
a very high staff which stood on the seashore. I saw one 
of the same pattern displayed from a tremendous war-ship 
of the yellow race. I saw those huge monsters clear for 
action. I saw the negroes man the forts in their lines along 
the sea. I saw the American war ships also prepare for 
defense, but those which lay between the enemy at ^ sea 
and the shore batteries manned by the negroes were in a 
dangerous position. The negroes held the ocean front for 
several hundreds of miles, which I saw would enable the 



42$ 



MAUDELLE. 



invaders to make easy landings after that portion of the 
American navy which lay between the two fires had been 
destroyed. I heard harsh, sharp commands all along the 
lines. I saw men fly to their guns with hands raised ready 
to touch fire to powder. I dreaded the shock. I closed 
my eyes, put my fingers in my ears, for I believed the moun- 
tains would tumble down and the earth would be kicked 
from its orbit when the crash came. As I cried aloud, 
1 Dear God, save the country which gave me birth/ I awoke 
rejoiced to find that I had only dr earned.' ' 

Heretofore a dream to Maudelle had no significance, 
it was nothing more than a shadowy phantom with which 
the mind played in the hours of sleep. But the dream 
of last night was something more than a thin, shapeless 
nebula flitting across the horizon of the mind. The scenes 
had followed one another in wonderful, realistic order with- 
out a halt or diversion of the actors in their strange role 
of nations. 

Virtue's Reward. 

Somehow, following the dream of the night there came 
to the mind of Maudelle a quiet, restful ease for which she 
could not account under the trying circumstances. 

Because on the night before she had about decided to 
abandon her work in the South and return to Boston, but 
the morning had brought to her another decision, on which 
she now determined to act. 

It will be remembered that she had left an unfinished 

school-building in , several months before, because 

of being suspected of rescuing a negro boy from a mob. 

Those who composed the mob, kept up a quiet, vigilant 
watch for evidences against her during her absence. 

The boy unfortunately wrote her from Chicago thank- 
ing her for her kindness in saving his life, and giving the 



426 



MAUDELLE. 



names of persons who informed him it was she. The let- 
ter was intercepted and the mob had all the proof they 
wanted, but kept everything a secret. 

On her return she was welcomed by Colonel Nelson and 
Major Warne. Others who had given her savage looks 
before were now pleasant and civil, as though the past 
had been forgiven and forgotten. She reopened contracts 
and pushed the work with all possible speed in order to 
complete everything by the Spring season, so that she might 
go North before the hot Summer set in. 

Four and a half months had passed, which brought her 
to the middle of March, and within ten days or two weeks 
of the finishing touches of her work. 

Although both Colonel Nelson and Major Warne had 
time after time cautioned Maudelle to be on her guard and 
not to take smiles for friendship, and to stay within doors 
after night, she would go to the post-office and other places 
where business made it necessary, whether night or day. 

The last mail was due at seven o'clock at night, and 
came much later in bad weather, as it was carried by hack, 
Seven or eight o'clock in March is well along in the night, 

On one of these late evenings as she came from the post- 
office, on passing a dark alley back of a livery stable, two 
men heavily masked stepped from the alley in front of her 
and covered her with guns. 

"One word and we will kill you," said they, in positive, 
stern voices. They took her into the alley, tied her hands 
behind her back, and threw a long, black gown over her 
face which also covered her entire person. 

She was led through what seemed to be dark, back streets, 
because they neither met nor heard anyone along the way, 
After travelling thus for twenty or thirty minutes, turning 
sharp corners and stumbling upon piles of trash, etc., they 
led her into a building and climbed rickety steps to a second 
story. Here she was led into a small room at the end of 



427 



MAUDELLE. 



a large hall — or at least it seemed so to her, from the fact 
that there were a great many men there who were discussing 
a subject on which it seemed difficult for them to agree. 
Others were continually coming in through the room in 
which Maudelle sat, and joining in the discussion. As the 
door was kept carefully closed between her and the hall, 
she could not catch a word. When the hall door opened 
to admit new comers, a dense fog of sugar, smoke, mixed 
with the odor of whiskey, poured in upon her and produced 
a dizzy, sickening sensation. 

Three hours or more slowly passed away while she waited 
for her doom without speaking a word or being spoken to. 
At last the wrangle in the hall ended by a vote, and all 
seemed to be satisfied with the decision. What that de- 
cision was will never be publicly known, except it is guessed 
by what followed. It was evident to Maudelle that her 
case was the topic of discussion, and whether she was to 
be put to death on the spot and her body burned or buried 
beneath the building, were questions which passed rapidly 
through her mind. She knew that she was helpless in the 
hands of a desperate people, whose social, political and 
even religious training was to oppose everything and every- 
body which had for their object the elevation of the negro 
to the standard of an independent, thinking being. But 
she knew that her case was more aggravating to the Southern 
mind than the mere simple, friendly work of trying to ele- 
vate the negroes. 

She had gone defiantly into the mob, taken a negro from 
their hands and freed him; and he had escaped beyond re- 
capture. For this she expected harsh treatment, but she 
had made up her mind to ask for no quarters, come what 
would. 

As the men filed out of the hall and passed her, she dis- 
tinctly heard cambric gowns rustling which each one seemed 
to wear. 



428 



MAUDELLE. 



"Come," said the harsh voice of a man, who put his hand 
on her shoulder. She rose to her feet with the readiness 
of one going on a pleasure trip. 

With a man on each side of her she was led down the 
steps and put on the back of a horse, between two mounted 
men who led her horse along in a procession, it seemed, of 
fifty or more horsemen, which moved as quietly and solemnly 
as a funeral. This slow march was kept up for at least an 
hour, without a word to break the monotony of the muf- 
fled tramp of horses. 

At last they seemed to turn abruptly from the road, and 
enter the timber, as was evident to her from the stir of dry 
leaves and breaking of bits of brush under the tread of the 
horses. They halted three or four hundred yards into the 
woods, and she was taken from the back of the horse, led 
forward a few steps, and seated on a log. 

They struck a light in front of her, as she discovered 
through the covering over her face. Like a flash the cover- 
ing was jerked from over her head and she saw herself 
surrounded by fifty or sixty men in frightful disguise. The 
effect was not what they expected. They thought she 
would be struck with terror and cry out for mercy. But 
while they stood staring into her face like misshapen mon- 
sters from a world of lost spirits, she looked on in silent 
contempt. Maudelle was no foolish, scary, giddy girl. 
Horns and masks and glass globe eyes and red rags and 
painted gowns and leather pouches for stomachs did not 
alarm her. 

The spokesman of the mob had lengthened his height 
to more than seven feet by a device on his head and his dress 
was the most hideous imagination could invent. 

He stepped from the ranks and faced her, and shook 
a twelve-inch artificial finger in her face, and in a rough, 
guttural voice said, " Madam, you are charged with inter- 
fering with the affairs of the white people of this community. 



429 



MAUDELLE. 



and we are delegated to see to it that you answer for your 
offense. We want you to understand that this country 
belongs to the white people, and they will control it to suit 
themselves. We will not have you Yankees come here 
and spoil the niggers by making them believe they are as 
good as white people. I say you are the one who released 
a nigger on this very spot, who was going to be punished 
for burning our compress, and thousands of dollars worth 
of cotton. You know you did it." 

Maudelle sat looking steadily in his face without saying 
a word or as much as moving a muscle. 

Stung by her silent, contemptuous gaze, he made a vicious, 
threatening advance toward her, and growled out, " An- 
swer me, woman," The clan also growled like angry tigers. 

"No, I did not release the negro who burned your com- 
press," said she. 

"You did," said the man, and the mob joined in the ac- 
cusation. 

"Yes, you did," said they. 

"I did no such thing," said she, sharply. "I released 
an innocent man from the clutches of a cowardly mob who 
would have killed him for a crime of which he was as inno- 
cent as anyone of you are." 

"What right had you to meddle with our business?" 
said the spokesman. 

"The same right that anyone with a human soul would 
have to rescue another innocent soul from the hands of 
wilful murderers," said she. 

"All right, madam. We will show you that we have the 
right to teach you a lesson of what it costs to be a Yankee 
nigger-lover," said the man excitedly. 

"You have no such right, sir, you may have the unmanly, 
brutal power to abuse a woman whom you have bound with 
cords and dragged into this forest, you say, to teach a les- 
son. Whatever that may mean, there is one thing of which 



43o; 



MAUDELLE. 



you may all be sure. You have either mothers, sisters 
wives or daughters yet unburied, and a just God will return 
to them full measure for measure in swift retribution for 
your conduct to-night," said she in a voice full of intense 
meaning. 

" Whatever may come to us or ours, is no business of 
yours, and your silly predictions will in no way deter us 
from doing our duty to those of our people you have so 
rudely insulted. 

"We propose to give you fifty lashes on your bare back, 
and then give you twenty-four hours to leave the state/' 
said the leader. 

"Is it possible that you are specimens of the boasted, 
chivalric knights of the South, that it takes fifty or sixty to 
chastise one woman bound with cords? Cowards!! loose 
my hands, give me either a sword, pistol or rifle, and you 
may take the same kind of weapon and make your own 
choice as to distance and come one at a time, and I will 
fight the entire mob," said she, with her eyes flashing the 
fire of vengeance. 

The Klan gave a hideous groan. 

"It is very evident to me that your moan of derision is 
your only excuse to cover your cowardice," said she. 

"Woman, we have had talk enough, it is now to business 
in short order," said the leader, while at the same time he 
ordered two of his men to prepare her back for the lash. 

The men stepped forward, took off her hat, tossed it on 
the ground, and began to unfasten the bosom of her dress. 

Just then one of the mob, a tall, commanding figure, 
stepped out of the ranks, and raised his hand. 

"Captain," said he, "I want to interrogate this woman 
before you proceed further." 

"All right," said the leader. 

"Madam." said the interrogator, "you have acknowl- 
edged that you released a negro eight or ten months ago 



43i 



MAUDELLE. 



trom his captors, who was to have been hung to a tree 
only a few feet from where you now sit. Why did you do 
that?" 

"I did it because I have proof positive that he was in- 
nocent of the charge," said she. 

" Would you do the same thing under similar circum- 
stances?" 

"Yes, I would liberate black, white, rich or poor every 
hour of my life, if I knew them to be innocent," said she, 
while her face lit up with animation from an earnest soul. 

"What proof have you that the negro is innocent?" said 
the interrogator. 

"I have more than a hundred witnesses, teachers and 
pupils, that the boy was in school that night long before and 
after the fire. Allow me to explain that the colored people 
have a Sunday night school, where moral and religious in- 
struction is given, and the boy was a faithful member of the 
school." 

"Then," said the man, "I suppose, madam, you believe 
it would be unjust to punish you for fr >eing the boy." 

"I do," said Maudelle. 

"Do you want protection?" said he. 

She made no answer, but merely looked up and seemed 
to regard his question as tantalizing mockery. 

He stepped to her side, put his hand on her shoulder, 
as though to arouse her from a dream. The touch of his 
hand was so gentle that it sent a thrill of confiding hope to 
her soul. But before she could translate the meaning of 
the question, and the trustworthiness of his hand on her 
shoulder, he said, "I say, young woman, do you want pro- 
tection?" His voice was tremulous with emotion so tha 
it sank almost to a whisper. 

"I do," she said simply, as her head dropped on her 
bosom and she broke into sobs, overwhelmed by the unex- 
pected proffer of friendship by one of the mob. 



43 2 



;MAUDELLE. 



As quick as a flash he tore off his mask and dress of dis- 
guise, and there to the astonished gaze of all present stood 
Lieutenant Nelson in full uniform. He cut the cords from 
her hands, placed a small, silk, American flag on her shoul- 
ders, then stood at her side with sabre in one hand and navy 
six in the other, and said, " Madam, in the name of our 
God, in honor to woman's virtue, in profound respect for 
my dead mother, and by the authority of the country I 
serve, you shall have protection." 

Facing the mob he continued thus, " Gentlemen, no doubt 
some of you are my personal friends, for whom I would 
make any reasonable sacrifice, But I cannot forget that a 
woman was my first and best friend, and the highest tribute 
I can now pay to her is, that I will stand sponsor for one of 
her sex, cost me what it may. Beware, gentlemen, I will kill 
the man who dares put the finger of violence on this woman." 

One of the mob threw off his disguise, stepped to the side 
of the Lieutenant, and cried out, "By heavens! Lieutenant, 
I am with you against the world." In less than three min= 
utes the entire mob had disrobed and lined up with Nelson 
in defense of Maudelle, and every man would have died 
willingly in his tracks for her. 

To the great surprise of all present, there arose from am- 
bush eight or ten old Confederate heroes of high rank, who 
came stepping forward, sword in hand, in all the grace and 
dignity of their profession. 

Said Major Warne, "Boys, we are here to join you in de- 
fense of woman." 

These old, gray-haired soldiers had followed the mob, 
and by some stratagem known only to soldiers, had come 
up unobserved within fifty feet of the scene, and there se- 
creted themselves to wait and watch developments. 

These men had always stood for peace and fair dealing 
with black and white, and for this they were respected, 
honored and loved by both races, 



433 



MAUDELLE. 



They knew of the feeling and ill-designs against 
Maudelle, and they had determined to save her from 
embarrassment, and the state and community from disgrace. 

Colonel Nelson, (who was one of the old soldiers referred 
to), did not know his son was taking any interest in 
Maudelle, until they met in the forest that night. The 
young man managed to keep himself informed of the move- 
ments of her enemies, and on die night of her capture, 
he disguised himself and fell in line as the mob filed out 
of town, and was thus on hand to act his part. 

Some one proposed three cheers for Lieutenant Nelson, 
"our brave sailor boy," which was given with a shout. 

The gallant old army officers proposed three cheers for 
the brave, little Yankee girl. The forest resounded with 
a hearty echo. 

Another proposition was to burn on the spot the masks 
and shrouds of men and horses, as a sacrifice to peace and 
good-will toward all law-abiding citizens, without regard 
to race or condition. The forest was soon lit up with the 
blaze which licked up the last vestige of mob violence in that 
part of . 

Everyone shook hands with Maudelle and assured her 
of their friendship ever after. 

"Miss Morroe," said Colonel Nelson, "Bettie is also 
out here under saddle waiting for you." 

"I thank you, Colonel Nelson, very much for your 
thoughtful kindness," said she. It will be remembered 
that "Bettie" was the little, pacing mare which Maudelle 
rode on the night she released the negro. 

The no-longer mob, but friends, bade her a warm good- 
night, mounted their horses and galloped homeward. 

Of course Lieutenant Nelson rode back to town by the 
side of Maudelle. 

Bettie tossed her head up and down, as though greatly 
enjoying the privilege of carrying Maudelle on her back. 



434 



MAUDELLE. 



Maudelle waited for an opportunity to thank Lieutenant 
Nelson for his kindness to her, but it seemed he had some- 
thing to say about everything else except the occurrence 
of the present night. Finally, however, the conversation 
turned on her work and whether she would leave the state 
when she had completed the school-building. 

"Yes, it is my intention to return to Boston just as soon 
as I am through here," said she. 

"I certainly cannot blame you for desiring to leave us," 
said he, in a tone of regret. "But," continued he, "we 
are not all as bad as you may think. Our people are impul- 
sive and sensitive, but when you know them as I do, 
vou will find some warm, large-hearted people among 
them." 

"Yes," said she, "that has been demonstrated to-night, 
in connection with my trouble, which at first assumed very 
ugly proportions, and then smoothed out into happy re- 
sults. And for these results I am greatly indebted to you," 
said she, as she turned and looked the Lieutenant in the 
lace. 

"I am very sorry, Miss Morroe, that such a thing should 
have occurred. I found out several weeks ago, that a cer- 
tain class were bent on giving you trouble. I made no open 
protest against them, but thought it well to let them develop 
their scheme, and then do my best to defeat its execution, 
and that would end it. 

"Perhaps I am taking the risk to incur your dislike, when 
I tell you that I have kept a close watch over you for several 
weeks, I knew that you were going to be attacked in some 
way, so I never have been far from you to assist you. When 
you were captured to-night, I was only twenty yards off. 
In the hall, I was in the adjoining room and overheard all 
they had to say. When they adjourned, I let myself down 
from the back window by a rope, disguised, and mounted 
my horse and fell in with the crowd, 



435 



MAUDELLE. 



"I did not know my father was also taking an interest 
in you, until he appeared on the scene. My father is a grand, 
old man, God bless him!" 

Maudelle extended her hand, and said, " Lieutenant, I 
have no words sufficiently expressive of my many obliga- 
tions to you for the very kind interest you have taken in my 
welfare. A brother could not have done more; I shall al- 
ways be your debtor. Perhaps I should have been more 
prudent, and thus have given you less trouble, but my train- 
ing has been to do right and fear no one." 

"Miss Morroe," said he, "I know that all I may say will 
not change your mind or free you from your deep sense of 
obligation to me for the part I have taken in the unpleasant 
affair to-night. But please do not mention it after to-night, 
it will only embarrass me, because it was a very pleasant 
duty for me, in fact, it is a part of my education at home, 
and as a soldier, to protect those who need protection." 

"A very noble calling indeed," said she, as she turned 
her face toward his, but the cruel darkness veiled the 
sweet smile and modest blush back of the word, "noble 
calling." 

"At your request I will try not to mention my indebted- 
ness to you after to-night, but I assure you of one thing, 
that you will always live in my heart as one of my best 
friends," said she. 

"Then," said he, "I shall always be happy to know 
that I am so fortunate as to live in a heart so brave and 
true." 

Both were silent for several seconds, until Maudelle 
broke the silence by speaking to the little mare. Patting 
her neck, she said, "Dear Bettie, we have gotten on nicely 
together, and I hope you will live to a good, old age." 
The mare tossed her head up and down, seemingly in 
answer to what was said to her. 

"I believe she understands you," said the Lieutenant. 



43 6 



MAUDELLE. 



Maudelle told him of the mare's human intelligence 
manifested on the night she rode her to the forest when 
she rescued the negro. 

"I do hope, Miss Morroe, that you will not hurry off 
to Boston. I would be glad to go out horseback riding with 
you. Father tells me you are a fine rider and manager of 
a horse." 

Maudelle laughed. "I fear," said she, "that your kind 
father has given me a reputation I cannot maintain 
when riding with a trained soldier. However, nothing can 
give me more pleasure than to go with you at your conven- 
ience. ,, 

"Any day for the next six or seven months will be 
convenient for me, or until our ship is ordered to sea," 
said he. 

As the next day was Saturday, and Maudelle would be 
busy with the workmen at the building, an engagement was 
made for the following Monday afternoon, 

Southern Hospitality. 

It is a matter of simple justice to the Southern people to 
say that they stand out above all other people of America 
for their kind, generous and hospitable disposition. When 
once the stranger has shown himself worthy of their friend- 
ship, the best they have is willingly shared with him, not for 
pay, because it is a thing much too cheap to exchange for 
Southern friendship. 

The Northern man is honest, upright and just in his deal- 
ings, but very sparing with the things that do not promise 
commercial return. Climate may account for this differ- 
ence. Men are very much like the soil on which they grow. 
The primary difference between a hill of potatoes, a blade 
of grass or a fruit tree and a man is, one has speech and lo- 
comotion, while the other has not. 



437 



MAUDELLE 



The soil of the Northern farm is from four to six inches 
deep, which must be fertilized in exchange for food stuff; 
thus the farmer pays the ground for its products, and the 
stranger whom he feeds and houses for a night, must pay 
him. The Southern soil is from ten to thirty feet deep, 
and is never fertilized, and never fails to yield bountiful 
crops, with a fair season and but little outlay of labor for 
everything except to produce, harvest and dispose of cotton, 
which requires from twelve to fifteen months. 

It is true that Maudelle had sustained many indignities, 
because her mission was very unpopular, and she w r as not 
understood. But when it was discovered that she was an 
honest, upright woman, who had not come South for dis- 
honorable gain, but on the other hand, was spending tens 
of thousands of dollars of her own personal means for the 
benefit of the ignorant negroes, the spirit in which it was 
done gained for her many friends, while they honestly dis- 
agreed with the purpose. 

On the night after the sequel in the forest, as Maudelle 
sat in her room meditating on the humiliating occurrence 
through which she had passed, she heard soft, sweet notes 
from a violin, which seemed to be attuned and touched by 
supernatural fingers sent especially from the upper world 
to woo the soul away from the earth. When that master 
of all musical instruments had stolen its way through the 
first measure, the bass viol and other accompanying instru- 
ments stepped into their respective places, until the even- 
ing air vibrated in answer to ten strings and brass pieces. 

Mrs. Major Warne, with whom Maudelle boarded, ran 
into Maudelle's room. "O Miss Morroe," said she, "dress 
as soon as you can, and look pretty. That is a serenade 
in honor of you. O, I am so glad! You will meet the 
best of our people to-night." She kissed Maudelle's fore- 
head, and hurried downstairs to be on hand to welcome 
the company. 



43$ 



MAUDELLE. 



By the time three selections had been played, Maudelle 
had dressed and gone to the parlors to assist Mrs, Warne 
to receive the company. 

As the ladies and gentlemen entered each one carried 
a package in his hand. It was evidently an old-fashioned 
surprise party. 

The spacious, double parlors of the Warne mansion were 
crowded with the elite of the city in full evening dress. 
The ladies had prepared a high, classical programme as 
much to bring out the mental attainments of the " Yankee 
girl" as for their own enjoyment. 

Maudelle established her reputation as a finished scholar 
of high rank. After the literary exercises ended, came the 
hop, in which old and young took an enjoyable part. 

At eleven o'clock the guests were conducted to the elab- 
orately-arranged refreshment table. 

Maudelle never showed to better advantage. She was 
not allowed to have one idle minute. Her native modesty 
carried with it a wonderful power, and coupled with her 
tremendous store of knowledge and her matchless brilliancy, 
when called out, made her the idol of the gentlemen and 
coveted associate of the ladies. 

Lieutenant Nelson, evidently the hero of the occasion, 
could get in only a hurried word at long intervals. But he 
seemed to be content to give her up to other admirers for 
the evening, because he was happy in the thought, that on 
Monday afternoon he would have her all to himself. 

After this introduction into Southern society, Maudelle 
was made to feel the warmth and friendship of the Southern 
people, every token of which she promptly and gladly re- 
ciprocated. 



439 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 



IT IS BLOOD THAT WINS. 

Promptly at the hour appointed on Monday afternoon, 
Lieutenant Nelson called at the Warne mansion to go riding 
with Maudelle. The servant had brought the mare Bettie 
for Maudelle, while the Lieutenant rode his fine trotting 
animal. 

Said Major Warne, in his usual jocular style, "Look out, 
Harrison, my boy, don't make your visits too frequent over 
here. I want the other boys to have a chance. The fact 
is, I expect it is about time for you to go back to your ship 
any way.' ' 

"O, I have six months yet," said the Lieutenant. 

"The deuce you have!" said Major Warne, as he waved 
his hand to the young couple starting off. 

As they rode slowly up the avenue which led into the 
country, pleasant smiles and friendly salutations met them 
on every hand. Those who knew the circumstances which 
had led to their acquaintance, felt assured that a more 
sacred and closer relationship would be the ultimate out- 
come. 

Although the forest episode was to have been strictly 
kept from public notoriety, by some means it got out, and 
it became current that Maudelle had challenged the entire 
mob. This gave her the reputation of an extraordinary 
woman of daring. And when it was learned that she had 
been thoroughly trained in the science of handling the 
sword, pistol, rifle and the fist, they readily understood that 
the challenge was no joke. Again, gossip had it, that since 
Nelson was a trained soldier, he naturally would become 



440 



MAUDELLE. 



attached to one skilled in the tactics of his profession. 
But such skill imputed to Maudelle was a new thing to 
Southern society, and it was determined by some of the 
ladies to get proof of what was claimed for the Yankee girl 
by some innocent method. 

The Lieutenant and Maudelle returned after a three 
hours' outing of exhilarating exercise. They had speeded 
their horses for short distances at a time. Mr. Nelson was 
rather quiet and meditative. He was a hard student and 
a close, consecutive reasoner. It was seldom he met with 
a mind in woman that measured up to his ideal, and when 
he did, he openly and fearlessly acknowledged his admira- 
tion for her talents. 

The afternoon's interview and interchange of thought 
with Maudelle, convinced him that he had found her not 
only to be all he had pictured a woman should be, but even 
more than a reasonable man could expect. She was not 
only an easy, fluent conversationalist, a scientist, a phil- 
osophical thinker, a skilful manipulator with pencil and 
brush, as well as a charming pianist, but in addition to her 
skill with the sword and firearms, etc., she had been trained 
to manage boats and horses, to swim, skate, and other 
physical culture exercises, as has been mentioned in the 
chapter under the heading of " Beginning a New Life. 5 ' 

Returning home they gave their horses rein for a mile or 
more, and the two animals poked along half asleep. The 
Lieutenant made it convenient to fall behind Maudelle in 
order to see how she carried herself in the saddle. Her 
position was as easy and graceful as a trained knight. He 
raised his eyes heavenward. "My God! this woman is to 
be my wife," he whispered. Just then Maudelle looked 
back to see why he had gotten behind. She noticed a broad 
smile on his face. "What is the matter with you now?" 
said she, while her sharp, black eyes bespoke instant 
resentment. 



441 



MAUDELLE. 



"Miss Morroe, I cannot tell you now why I smiled, but 
believe me until I can tell you. I only can say now, that 
the thought which provoked the smile was the most pleasant 
of all my life. You shall know it at a time not remote. 
Somehow I never have been popular with ladies. It may 
be I am a chronic crank, and expect more of a woman than 
a sane man has any right to expect. Mere girlish giggle 
and town gossip cannot entertain me. I always try to 
give my company something more than that, and I believe 
I have the right to expect something in exchange, to add to 
my little store of knowledge, but without that something 
I am robbed of my valuable time. This three hours' ride 
with you has led me out into the great domain of thought, 
where we have had one continual evolutionary unfoldment 
of real, rich, original and newly-created ideals all our own. 
I truly thank heaven for the opportunity which brought us 
together, and for the new impulse our short acquaintance 
has given to my life. It seems to me I must have been born 
old, because that which entertained boys of my age was mere 
foolishness to me. I never sowed what is known as wild 
oats, and therefore have none to reap. Of course I was 
called old granny, recluse and sober-sides, etc. But I 
found my early habits of inestimable value in the naval school 
where nothing counts but brain and character. But I 
must not forget that all I am, or ever expect to be, must go 
to the credit of my good mother, no boy ever had a better. 
She and my father made me their confidential companion. 
I lived in their bountiful love, which supplied every need. 
When my mother died, although I had reached ripe 
manhood, half of my life died with her. My father being 
spared to me, I buried the other half of my life in his 
love. ,, 

While he conversed with warmth and animation, Maud- 
elle was a silent, attentive listener. When he had finished, 
she said, "Your epitomized history of your boyhood and 



442 



MAUDELLE. 



youth is interesting from the fact that you have made it 
a plain, open book." 

By this time they were only a block from the Warne man- 
sion, where they would part. 

"I hope," said the Lieutenant, "I may have the pleasure 
of taking you driving very soon ?" 

She assured him that she would be pleased to go, The 
engagement was made for Thursday of that week. 

As he lifted her from the saddle, he said, "This day will 
be the beginning of a new life for me, and I owe it all to you, 
Miss Morroe." 

The warmth of a slight blush passed over her face as she 
said with an earnestness which left no doubt of its truthful- 
ness, "I assure you I never enjoyed a ride more than I 
have this afternoon." 

They parted. As he rode home, he hung to that word, 
"I have never enjoyed a ride more than I have this after- 
noon." There seemed to be a charming revelation about 
the word he could not give up. But he could not reduce 
it to the meaning he most desired with the one word "ride" 
in the way. Had she left that out, he might have taken 
credit for being the sole contributor to her pleasure. But 
with the word "ride" to interfere the animal shared the 
credit. 

Colonel Nelson met his son at the gate. "Well, 
Harrison," said he, "how do you like the Yankee girl?" 

"She is the best-informed and most thorough and well- 
rounded woman I have ever met," said the son. 

"I think just as you do," said his father. Continuing, 
the Colonel said, "When she came to me eight or ten months 
ago, and explained her plans to rescue the negro from the 
mob, I did not discourage her, but I really believed that 
she would lose courage and back out when the time should 
come to execute her scheme. Because I thought it was de- 
cidedly too daring for a woman to undertake. However, 



443 



MAUDELLE. 



I promised to do my part. I was on hand in disguise as 
one of the mob, and there was no way for her to know me 
from the others. 

"She had to take a hazardous chance on my word. But 
undaunted, God bless her soul! she performed her part 
promptly and well, and saved herself by a dash of horse- 
manship." 

"Father," said the son, "I have not concealed anything 
from you, and I owe my success in life to that fact. In this 
way I have had the benefit of your good judgment and ma- 
ture experience to supplement such common sense as I 
may have. I want to explain to you some private, personal 
and delicate matters relative to Miss Morroe, and your 
opinion will govern my actions regardless of my own notion. 
When I came home a few weeks ago, and saw her so actively 
engaged superintending her work with so much business 
tact and promptness, I began to like her, and when you told 
me that some of our people were bent on giving her trouble 
for what you and I considered was a noble act, I made up 
my mind to help her out. I took the pleasant task to be 
near her whenever I thought she was in danger of mis- 
treatment. Of course that explains why I was prepared 
to take the part I did in the forest. But when she chal- 
lenged the entire mob without knowing that she had a friend 
within miles of her, it showed so much courage and unusual 
bravery that my former admiration for her became at once 
intense love. I would have undertaken to have fought the 
world for her. It is not affection simply born of sympathy, 
but it is a touch of the divine spirit that seems to inform me 
that she was born especially for me and I for her. What 
I want to know is, shall I follow up my first impression and 
win her if I can?" 

The old gentleman drew his handkerchief across his 
forehead — a usual custom of his when under a mental 
strain — and held it there a few seconds, as thougk struggling 



444 



MAUDELLE. 



with his great, manly heart to give up the last and only liv- 
ing child in the world. He knew it was his duty to yield, and 
he intended to do so. He had anticipated such a crisis, 
and had tried to hold himself in readiness to meet it. But 
it came from a quarter against which he had not fortified 
himself. Or in other words, he did not expect to be made 
arbitrator of a contract to which he was one of the parties 
concerned. 

Again, there are but few parents who can, on the turn 
of a moment, acknowledge the righteous claim of a stranger 
to all the affections, careful rearing and watchful training 
of a child. 

"Harrison," said the father, "I was trying to find a way 
to let the girl in between us, that is if you can make her 
agree to come. She is in every sense worthy of you. You 
can never find a better companion. Go, Harrison, and 
win her if you can in an open, truthful, manly way. You 
have both my sanction and congratulation for your good 
judgment in making such a choice. She is a rare gem, 
and you must be the counterpart of that." 

The conversation then turned on the possibilities and prob- 
abilities in case of marriage, whether the son would resign 
his commission in the navy and come home. "I would 
take her with me," said he. "She is used to the water, 
can manage and sail a boat." 

"Do what, sail a boat?" said his father. "Plague take 
the little monkey! what is it she cannot do?" said the old 
gentleman, who threw his head back and laughed at his 
uncouth expression. "After all, do you know I like a 
woman of that kind, one who can face danger and not faint 
and fall at the very time when they need calm reason for 
self-defence," said the old gentleman. 

While father and son were pleasantly outlining a future 
home and life for Maudelle, she was at the same time plan- 
ning to avoid a repetition of a Crondell episode. She saw 



445 



MAUDELLE 



very plainly that Lieutenant Nelson was liking her, and that 
she felt an unavoidable pleasure in his company, and some- 
how a little restless when he was not present. She knew 
the meaning of this, and determined to end it by placing a 
thousand or more miles between them at once. "I will go 
driving with him on Thursday, as I have promised, and on 
Monday I will take the train for Boston, " said she, and, 
seemingly relieved, she sat down to write her decision home. 
But she had written only a half a dozen words, when there 
came over her such a sad feeling of regret, she rose from the 
desk and strolled back and forth across the room in deep 
meditation about nothing in particular. The letter lay on 
the desk unfinished. She tried to do some packing, but that 
too, was in such a careless, half-hearted way, that it too was 
abandoned. She sat down to read, but despite her efforts 
her flagging spirits, this work also ended in failure. 

She was surprised to find herself rather impatient at the 
apparently slow approach of Thursday, and her desire to 
hasten the expected pleasure of the drive with Lieutenant 
Nelson. 

Thursday came at last. The day was cool and bright — 
as May days generally are in the South, which gave a keen 
edge and clearness to thought and an easy flow to the cur- 
rent of expression, which is always charming in those who 
possess that rare gift. As the last hour began wasting away, 
and the time was drawing near for Lientenant Nelson to 
call, she could not keep away from the window. "I am 
really ashamed of myself," said she to herself. She turned 
from the window and sat down determined to wait until 
he called. But when the lazy minute hand of the clock 
crept through the last five minutes, she rose and went back 
to the window, controlled by an influence too strong to re- 
sist the pleasure it afforded. 

On the very minute, two fine, black horses hitched to a 
buggy, came clashing up to the mansion, and drew up to the 



446 



MAUDELLE. 



front gate. "That is he," said she, as she quickly stepped 
back behind the folds of the damask curtains and waited 
for him to ring the bell. At the tap of the bell her pulse 
quickened, and a thrill of joy filled her heart. The servant 
brought her the Lieutenant's card, and the next minute she 
came down stairs ready to go. 

"You are as prompt as a soldier," said the Lieutenant. 

" Yes," said she, "time has its value as well as other com- 
modities. I see that you are also on the minute." 

" O yes, that is a part of my schooling. To delay a second 
to execute a command might cause a loss of thousands of 
lives," said he. 

Before they took the buggy Maudelle asked if she might 
speak to the horses. 

"Certainly," said he, "if they will allow it." 

She patted them on their necks, and then on their cheeks 
and their faces. They held their heads down and appeared 
greatly to enjoy the caressing. 

"Well, well!" said the Lieutenant, "that is the first time 
those horses ever had the hand of a woman on them. I 
expected they would protest, but they seemed to like it." 

"A horse is as intelligent as he is noble. He can ap- 
preciate kindness as readily as a human being. The fact 
is, I am an uncompromising friend of all kinds of animals, 
and they seem to know it," said she. 

The drive on the pike for ten miles out was delightful 
The evenly-matched team swept along under tight reins like 
proud, black phantoms. The conversation at first took 
a wide range, embracing the origin and growth of nations, 
the establishment of their governments, literature, religion, 
science, art, civilization, etc., and finally narrowed down 
to the Southern people and their notions as contrasted with 
those of the Northern people. 

"How do you like our Southern people, since you have 
become better acquainted with them?" said the Lieutenant. 



447 



MAUDELLE 



"I have never met a more open-hearted and whole-souled 
people anywhere," said she. "And I assure you," con- 
tinued she, "I shall miss their warm, genial association 
when I go away." 

"I hope," said he, "it will be a long time before you leave 
us." 

"Not very long," said she. "Perhaps next Monday." 

He turned in the seat and looked her in the face. "Cer- 
tainly, Miss Morroe, you are only jesting," said he. 

"No; not jesting," said she. "I have finished my work 
here, made friends with the people, and it will be wise to go 
before I exhaust their valuable friendship." 

"It may be I am selfish," said he. "But if I am, it is 
a selfishness born of honor and pure intentions. I have 
been hoping that you would stay here at least as long 
as I do, that is four or five months. I suppose by that 
time my ship will be ready to go to sea for a three years' 
cruise." 

In a playful manner Maudelle said, "You see, Lieutenant, 
my furlough has run out, and my people are expecting me 
at home according to my promise, and I must not disappoint 
them." 

Then both were silent for a few minutes. It was evident 
from the serious expression on his face, that he was marshal- 
ing the courage of his life to say to her what he had never 
said to any woman before. 

With a deep and long breath, as though he had reached 
a decision, formulated a resolution, and on that he would 
stake his destiny, whatever that was to be. Looking into 
her face he said, "Miss Morroe, circumstances have brought 
me to a point in life I have never before experienced, and 
somehow I hesitate and feel a keen sense of embarrassment 
to explain myself." 

Maudelle sensibly felt and readily translated his meaning 
before it was expressed, and wished she could have vanished 



448 



MAUDELLE. 



into nothingness and have beeri spared the pain of assuming 
the defensive. They were a long way from home, and the 
horses were allowed to creep along under slack traces over 
the seven or eight miles, which prolonged the return home 
to several hours, which the team could have made in forty 
minutes. 

"You remember," continued he, "that you caught me 
smiling at you on the day we were horseback riding, and 
I promised then to tell you to-day. It was this. I dropped 
behind you to see how you carried yourself in the saddle, 
to which soldiers are trained, and greatly admire you as an 
easy, graceful rider, Your training must have been thor- 
ough, because you are absolutely perfect in the art. Of 
course I was pleased with that, but there was a thought back 
of that which gave rise to a powerful, involuntary conscious- 
ness of the relation we are to sustain to each other. But 
our short acquaintance seemed not to warrant me in ex- 
pressing all I felt, but as I said to myself, you were to be 
my wife, just then you looked back and caught me smiling. 
I felt it then, I feel it now. It is not merely boyish admira- 
tion which is common and unstable. It is love, first, the 
only and purest of all love. Miss Morroe, I know I em- 
barrass you, but I am certainly sharing the embarrassment 
with you. It is not my fault that I love you. God has 
done it. He has made you for me, and me for you. Though 
born and reared a thousand or more miles apart, we uninten- 
tionally have gravitated together, and circumstances have 
made it necessary for me to tell you this much sooner than I 
otherwise would have done. 

"It may seem strange to you as it is to me, that I have 
loved you always, have loved you when but a dependent 
child, just as soon as I could recognize one face from an- 
other. I thought and dreamed of my little girl-wife when 
I was but a little boy hanging about my mother's neck, 
and living on her love for the time, 



449 



MAUDELLE. 



"I have waited all these thirty-six years for you, and I 
have been faithful to you in that I neither offered my af- 
fection to any woman, nor have I asked any woman for her 
love, because I knew you would come sometime. When 
in my teens and when my boy associates of that age were 
flirting with girls, I drew a mental picture of you, and to 
that picture I was strictly loyal. It was a picture created 
not of desultory parts and outlined by fanciful, short-lived 
notions to be dissolved when brought before new forms and 
faces, but my first ideal has lived with me unchanged until 
I have found you, its original. " 

At times his voice faltered under the pathetic emotion 
of his soul. Continuing, he said, "I have said all this 
without the least evidence that you could ever like a plain, 
blunt man like me. I confess I never had any particular 
lady friend, therefore I am a novice in the art of courting, 
and I may frighten you away from me before you under- 
stand me." 

"No," said Maudelle, "I am no longer a chit in her teens, 
thirty-one years ought to give a woman some sense, if she 
is going to have any at all. I like your frank, open manner. 
All that old, conventional style, when a man was expected 
to say pretty, memorized words on his knees at a woman's 
feet, has gone with the other foolish nonsense of the past. 

"You have confessed you like me, and I assure you there 
is no one for whom I have greater respect than I have for 
you." 

Said he, "I am glad my conduct merits your approval. 
If you respect me, why can we not be friends for life ? The 
fact is, Miss Morroe, I do not see how I can ever get along 
without you. I have never met a woman in all my travels 
(which have been extensive), whose mind and thoughts 
and taste were so much a part of my own as are yours." 
By this time they were only a few hundred yards from home, 
and had a chance for only a word or two more. 

45° 



MAUDELLE. 



He engaged her company for a walk to the city park on 
the next evening. "Now," said he, "can you not give me 
one little word of hope on which to live until tomorrow 
night?" 

She looked into his face, but could not trust herself to 
attempt an answer, but she merely nodded her head in the 
affirmative as he lifted her from the buggy, and they parted 
for the evening. 

Trying to Master the Inevitable. 

When Maudelle went to her room that night and re- 
called the interview of the day, she found herself less for- 
tified against the proposals of Lieutenant Nelson than those 
of any other man she had ever met. She felt down deep 
in her heart that every word he had said was true. Said she, 
"I felt the truth of his confession of love for me vouched for 
by the attestation of my own soul. I love him as I never 
loved before. I thought I loved Lawrence, and I would 
have married him had not fate taken him from me. But 
I must put down the thought of love for — Harrison. O, 
how that name thrills my soul with delight! Yes, I will 
wall in the thought of love. I will chain it in the darkest 
cell of my heart, and starve it to death. It must not live 
beyond to-day. If I must, I will murder it to keep it down. 
O God ! Did I say — murder love ? that creative soul power, 
that divine influence which has come to me on a mission 
of the most noble and purest trust which heaven ever vouch- 
safed to the human soul ? No ; I will not strangle that part 
of God and myself. I will not turn cruel monster as a way 
out of my difficulty. I will face it like a woman, I will 
not betray the man who loves me. I will refuse his offer, of 
course, and I will tell him who I am, and thus make the 
sacrifice for his good. 

4Si 



MAUDELLE. 



" If I must, I will truthfully acknowledge I love him, in 
justice to him for his affection for me, but beyond that I 
will never go. I am now ready to meet and master what 
seemed to be the inevitable." 



The Unexpected Happened. 

On the next evening, at half-past seven o'clock, Lieutenant 
Nelson and Maudelle were seated in the park, under the 
spreading branches of an arbor vita, which had been ar- 
tistically trained after the fashion of a Japanese umbrella, 

"Will you really leave us Monday?" said the Lieutenant, 

"Yes, Monday," said Maudelle. He was silent a few 
seconds, picking at his beard. 

Here sat two human souls really created for each other, 
of which they were uncertain, except by a faint whispering 
of a far-off sub-consciousness. There hung between them 
and the consummation of all that two souls could hope for 
an impenetrable drop curtain, which would be lifted within 
the next twenty minutes and bring into full view the unex- 
pected. 

Raising his head, and looking her in the face he said ; 
"Miss Morroe, I shall miss you, and no one on earth can 
fill your place. If you will go, you must allow me to come 
and find you again sometime. There is one thing I am 
anxious to know, yet I know it may appear to be selfish in 
me, but it is really a sense of justice I owe to my fellowman. 
Are you obligated to any suitor ? For I will not try to be 
happy at the expense of another's pain, I promise you I 
will keep the secret for you." 

"I am neither engaged nor am I in any way obligated 
to any man," said she, 

"Then let me say," said he, "that, with you, God and 
myself present, I love you as dearly as one soul can love 



452 



MAUDELLE. 



another, and I feel to-night more of that higher, spiritual 
life which leads up to that great Source of all love. A higher 
life has been my aim from the lap of my mother to this day, 
and I believe when paired with the one I love, that my 
every-day life will reflect more and more of the great, orig- 
inal love. Love adds new elements to faith, new resolutions 
to hope, increases energy and effort, and adds new powers 
to the spiritual, mental and physical strength. Love turns 
doubt to trust, failure to success, sorrow to gladness, want 
to plenty, fear and timidity to daring bravery, the earth into 
a paradise, and woman is its hallowed, central figure. 
Love is a safeguard against temptation, a panacea for hatred, 
malice, ill-will, vice and every species of sin. 

"Miss Morroe, if you love me the least bit, now or ever 
can, it is no sin or sign of weakness to tell me so, and let me 
know the best or worst you have to say." 

She dropped her head, toyed with her gloves, then sum- 
moning up the womanly courage of her life, she said, " Lieu- 
tenant Nelson, you have been plain-spoken and, I know, 
truthful with me. For this I admire you, but for your own 
manly self, I truly love you. God knows I do," Her 
voice broke into sobs, as she leaned forward and covered 
her face with her hands. He was heard to say, "O Father 
of heaven and earth, make me and keep me worthy of 
Thy gracious gift." 

He attempted to embrace her, but she put up her hand, 
pushed him back, and said, "Wait awhile. I have more 
to say." After drying her tears, continuing, she said, "My 
dear friend, my acknowledgment that I love you and those 
tears are all I have to give you for your kindness and your 
love for me." 

"My dear Maudeile— It is now no longer Miss Morroe 
nor Lieutenant but I am to you plain Harrison, and you to 
me will be the sweetest of all names, Maudeile— then I say, 
dear Maudeile, tears are sacred, but tears will not satisfy 



453 



MAUDELLE. 



the thirty-six years' soul hunger — nothing, no nothing 
but your own dear self as a helpmate, a companion to go 
hand in hand with me through life; without that I will be 
the most miserable of all men. Why can it not be thus? 
If you have a good, valid reason why, I can but bend to 
my fate, and wait patiently for relief through a soul trans- 
lation, where neither marriages nor giving in marriage 
are had." 

"Then," said she, "dear Harrison, my hero, my protec- 
tor and rescuer from the hands of vicious men, that name 
Harrison will always have the warmest place in my soul. 
You are too noble and too kind to suffer by my deception. 
Now prepare yourself to hate me. But be that as it may, 
you shall know the truth, and I will patiently carry your 
hatred to the end of life. I have colored blood in my veins, 
which came to me through my mother, who served in the 
place of wife to Senator George Morroe, my father. I 
have said nothing about this before, because I could not have 
prosecuted my work so well. I have told you the truth for 
your sake, because I love you, but I am now ready to part 
with you for life. Good-bye," said she, as she rose to her 
feet to go. 

He caught her by the hand and said, "My own dear little 
friend, wait just a minute, and let me show you the visible 
hand of God, which has brought us together. 

"My dear mother was also a colored woman, who sus- 
tained to my father the same relation that your mother did 
to yours." 

He threw his arms around her, and pressed a kiss upon her 
lips and said, "I claim you as my dear, intended wife, and 
I shall be the husband of the dearest and best woman on 
earth, who has been won not by love and tears alone, but 
by the affinity of racial blood. Now," said he, "come, go 
with me to my father, and get from his own lips the secret 
which no living soul knows except he and I. I want you 



454 



MAUDELLE. 



to do this for me, that you may have no doubt as to my 
peculiar history.'' 

As they reached the Nelson mansion, and began to ascend 
the steps to the front door, Maudelle felt her courage flag- 
ging, and hesitated to enter the house. Said she, "It has 
too much the appearance of my being the aggressor. I 
will take your word for all you have told me." 

"No," said he, "please me just that much. Let my father 
tell you before I have any chance to prompt him, and there 
will never be any doubt in the future. I want to stand fair, 
upright and honest before my wife." 

Just then the door swung backhand Colonel Nelson ap- 
peared with hat in hand. "Well, well! my children, I am 
so glad you have come to pay the old man a visit." 

Maudelle tried to beg off with the excuse that she did 
not want to prevent him from going out. 

"No, no, not a bit of it, not a bit of it. Come in," said 
he, as he took her by the hand, led her into the house and 
seated her. 

Turning to his son, he said, "Harrison, it was not neces- 
sary to invite you in. I thought you would be likely to 
follow." 

Twenty minutes or more passed in general conversation 
about nothing in particular. 

Then the son turning to his father, said, "Miss Morroe 
will leave us on Monday morning." 

"Do what?" said his father. To Maudelle he said, 
"My dear child, I cannot have you go from us so 
soon, and let us not even entertain such a thought for a 
moment." 

She assured him that she had promised her people, and 
could not disappoint them. 

Said his son, "There is one favor, father, I want you to do 
for me, and when that is done, I will satisfy you that you 
have made no mistake." 



455 



MAUDELLE, 



"I never have denied you any reasonable request. What 
is it you would have me do?" said his father. 

"X want you to tell Miss Morroe the history of my life. 
Who my mother was, and all the circumstances connected 
with the case," said his son. 

The old gentlemen looked straight into the face of his 
son, while his lips twitched, and his countenance took on 
and threw off expressions which showed it was the trying 
hour of his life, to unbosom a secret which had been closely 
guarded for thirty-six years. What made it still worse, was 
to give that secret to a white woman, as he supposed, which 
would end in social ruin to his son. After a minute or more 
of silence, with faltering voice, he said, " Harrison, do you 
know what you want — do you realize the meaning of your 
request ? The leap is dangerous ; beware. You may in this 
dig your own social grave." 

u l am willing to take the risk," said his son. 

The old, indulgent parent leaned forward, covered his 
face with his hands, and was in silent tears. 

The young man saw the struggle going on in the bosom 
of that loving, old, faithful parent, and he felt that he must 
do something to relieve his intense suffering. 

He went to his father, stroked back the gray locks from 
his forehead, upon which he pressed a kiss. " Father," 
said he, " trust me as you have heretofore. I have never 
deceived you and never will." 

By this time the picture had assumed a character of such 
distressing pathos, too tender and touching for the Christ- 
like heart of woman to carry it longer without a response in 
tears for tears. 

Maudelle burst out in sobs, and rising to her feet, said, " O, 
let me go; I have caused all this; I cannot stand it longer." 

The old gentleman rose to his feet, put his hand on her 
shoulder and said, " Sit down, my dear, sit down, don't 
leave me now; the struggle is over, and all I ask of you is, 



4# 



MAUDELLE. 



that you will keep the secret, and save my boy from a social 
deaths 

She put her hand in his, and said, " Colonel Nelson, your 
secret will be kept, and it shall die with me, except to share 
it with my foster-parents." 

He then told her that the mother of Harrison was a col- 
ored woman. He told her how that his wife and the colored 
woman gave birth to children at the same time, but that 
his wife and her child died, but it was reported to the public, 
and so understood, that the colored woman's child, (Har- 
rison), died, and she was given the white's woman's child 
to nurse, "which you see," said he, " was Harrison, her own 
child, so now you have it just as it is." 

"Now," said the son, "you have won for me a wife in the 
person of Miss Morroe, by giving her the history of my life. 
Now prepare yourself for a greater surprise, Miss Morroe's 
mother was also a colored woman, and on condition that 
I satisfied her of my identity with the colored race, she 
would be mine." 

The old gentleman with a look of surprise on his face, 
stared Maudelle in the face. Maudelle laughed. 

"O it is true," said she. "My father," continued she, 
"was Senator George Morroe of Kentucky." 

"God love your soul!" said the Colonel. "I knew the 
Senator when he was in the Senate." 

The old gentleman rose to his feet, took his son by one 
hand and Maudelle by the other, joined their hands, put 
his arms around the two, and said, "Harrison, the father of 
this dear little woman was not only the most wealthy, but 
also the most learned and prominent man in Kentucky. 
My son, be true to his daughter, for I believe deep down 
in my heart that you two were born for each other. May 
the God of heaven bless you. You also have not only my 
blessing in words, but all my material worth shall be yours, 
when I am no more." 



457 



MAUDELLE. 

Maudelle took the train on Monday for Boston. Four 
months from then Maudelle and Lieutenant Nelson were 
married at the Gillispie mansion in Boston. Colonel Nelson, 

Major Warne and other close friends from 

were at the wedding. On the same morning, the bride 
and groom stepped aboard the gallant war cruiser, which 
steamed away to circumnavigate the world. 

The End, 



458 



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